#its not cat ears its a little black cat that sits on your head :3

[michameinmicha]

Had some time to kill (because my endo fucked up my appointment) so i went to the flying tiger (i know i know) and bought a cat headband and some fake vampire teeth that ill try to use for my dnd characters orc teeth :]

[just-aake]

A Feline Connection

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha makes a new furry little friend and becomes captivated by its owner along the way.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 4270

Natasha shoots upright in her bed, her heart racing and cold sweat clinging to her skin. Her hand instinctively reaches for the knife tucked nearby, gripping it tight as she scans the room, her pulse thundering in her ears.

She’s met with silence. The darkened space of her room at the Compound was empty of any threat. No footsteps, no shadows lurking—just her.

Exhaling shakily, Natasha lowers the blade, pressing her free hand against her eyes, as though she could push away the remnants of the nightmare from her mind.

The memories linger, though. They always do.

A quick glance at the clock tells her it’s 4:00 A.M. Too early for anyone else to be awake. 

But for Natasha, this was normal.

Sighing, she swings her legs out of bed, trying not to dwell on how long it had taken to fall asleep in the first place. 

Three hours of sleep was better than nothing. 

She dresses quickly, pulling on her jogging clothes in automatic, well-practiced movements, intent on escaping the restlessness that always comes with her dreams.

The sky was still dark when she went outside, the first hints of light barely on the horizon, but Natasha set off anyway, her pace swift and determined.

With every stride, the tension in her body begins to ease, her breathing falling into a steady rhythm that mirrored the pounding of her feet against the pavement.

This was her moment of relief—where she could forget, even if just for a while—pushing her body harder, faster, hoping to leave behind the lingering shadows of her past.

After a few miles, Natasha slows to a stop beside a tree, her breath coming in even pants as she stretches out her arms.

The world was still quiet, save for the distant rustling of leaves.

Then, faintly, she hears something.

A soft, distressed sound.

She freezes, tilting her head to listen. 

There it is again—a tiny cry coming from somewhere nearby.

From above? 

Her gaze lifts upward, and there, high up in the tree, a little black cat clings precariously to a branch, its claws struggling to maintain a grip on the rough bark. 

Natasha blinks in surprise, but before she can react to the sight, the cat lets out a desperate yowl and slips.  

Moving on instinct, Natasha surges forward and catches the cat just before it hits the ground. She cradles the small creature against her chest securely.

“You’re okay,” she murmurs, her fingers gently checking for any injuries. Its fur is soft and clean—not a stray, then. 

Her suspicion is confirmed when she notices the sleek collar around its neck, the gold tag gleaming faintly in the early light.

Natasha tilts the tag to read the name engraved on it.

“Widow?” 

An amused smirk tugs at her lips at the irony.

At the sound of its name, the cat looks up at her with wide, inquisitive yellow eyes and lets out a tiny, plaintive meow.

Natasha couldn’t help but chuckle softly, sinking down to sit against the tree with the cat still nestled in her arms. 

“What were you doing up there?” she asks, her voice a soft murmur as she scratches behind its ears.

The cat responds with a long, dramatic meow as if offering some elaborate excuse for its predicament.

Natasha smiles softly in amusement before glancing at the tag again, searching for any contact information but finding none.

“Well, you obviously belong to someone,” Natasha muses, lifting the cat to meet its gaze. “They must really trust you to make it back on your own, huh?” 

In response, the cat swats playfully at Natasha’s face, its soft paws barely grazing her skin.

Natasha shakes her head with a smile and tries to set the cat down to let it go on its way, but to her surprise, the cat clings to her, its claws digging into the front of her shirt.

“Hey, easy now,” Natasha grumbles, gently trying to pry the cat off, but it stubbornly clings to her, refusing to let go.

“Really? This is the thanks I get for saving you?” she deadpans, raising an eyebrow at the tiny creature. 

The cat chirps, blinking up at her innocently before nuzzling against her chin. 

“Alright, I surrender,” Natasha sighs, settling back against the tree in resignation, her fingers absentmindedly stroking the cat’s fur.  

The warmth of the tiny creature in Natasha’s arms is unexpectedly comforting. Before she realizes it, her eyelids grow heavy, and exhaustion finally pulls her under.

It’s not until a soft movement against her arms stirs her that Natasha blinks awake, momentarily disoriented. As her vision clears, the first thing she sees is your face, watching her from a nearby bench, chin resting casually on your hand.

“You have my cat,” you say, your tone flat but not unkind.

Natasha blinks again, still shaking off the grogginess from the unexpected nap. She glances down to find Widow still nestled in her arms, staring up at her with wide, expectant eyes.

As she processes your words, Natasha loosens her hold and sits up straighter.

Widow hops onto her lap, stretching languidly and letting out a tiny yawn, completely at ease.

“Your cat was stuck in a tree,” Natasha explains, her voice still rough with sleep. “I caught her when she fell.”

You raise an eyebrow, your gaze flicking to the lazily stretching cat. 

“You do know they land on their feet, right?” 

Natasha opens her mouth to argue but pauses, catching the subtle teasing in your tone. She leans back with a small smirk, deciding to tease you back.

“Widow is kind of a strange name for a cat.”

At her remark, you scoff and cross your arms, leaning back on the bench with a playful glint in your eyes. 

“Wow, so you’re a thief and you’re judgy. Maybe next time I won’t be so nice and let you finish your nap.”

“I didn’t steal your cat,” Natasha retorts, unable to suppress the slight curve of her lips, trying and failing to hide her amusement. “She wouldn’t let go of me. Also, you watched me sleep. Isn’t that a little weird?” 

You shrug with casual ease and respond with a softened tone. 

“You looked like you needed it.”

Your bluntness catches Natasha off guard, leaving her momentarily speechless. She blinks, surprised not only by your remark but by the realization that she hadn’t woken up immediately when you arrived. 

The fact that she was able to rest so peacefully with a practical stranger nearby is something she never would’ve thought possible—but here she is.

As the sun rises higher for the start of the day, its gentle light softens the tension between you. It casts a warm glow over everything, including you, and Natasha finds herself at a loss for words at the sight.

After a moment, you stand, calling Widow to your side. 

The cat stretches one last time before hopping down from Natasha’s lap and trotting over to you with a playful spring in its step.

As you turn to leave, you glance back at Natasha, a faint smile playing on your lips.

“Maybe find a better spot for naps next time,” you say, giving her a backward wave. “Take care, Miss Black Widow.”

Natasha watches you walk away, something unfamiliar stirring in her chest. She exhales, running a hand through her hair as she tries to shake off the lingering sensation.

“Yeah,” she murmurs softly. “You too.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A few days later, Natasha returns to her room after another one of her early morning runs, her body drenched in exhaustion from both physical exertion and the sleepless nights filled with nightmares. 

She lets out a tired sigh, closing her eyes and shaking her head as if to shake off the haunting memories of the recent dream when a soft scratching sound from her window catches her attention.

Her eyes widen in surprise as she spots the source of the noise. Hurrying over, she opens the window and carefully scoops the black cat perched on the sill into her arms.  

“How did you get all the way up here?” Natasha asks curiously.

Widow meows softly in response, twisting in her arms to bat playfully at a stray strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

Natasha huffs in amusement, leaning her head back to keep the hair out of reach.

Her gaze drops to the collar around Widow’s neck, reminding her of the lack of contact information to reach you. 

A small smile tugs at her lips as she recalls the memory of you accusing her of being a thief. Now, somehow, your cat has found its way to her again, staring up at her with those innocent, wide eyes.

Natasha taps the top of Widow’s nose lightly in mock scolding.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble with your owner again,” she mutters, half-playful, half-exasperated.

Unbothered by Natasha's words, Widow glances around the room with mild curiosity before letting out a pitiful meow, pawing at Natasha with an urgent expression.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, confused. "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

Her meows grow more insistent, her tiny voice taking on a more desperate tone.

“What do you want? Food?” she asks.

The cat immediately quiets at her suggestion, eyes shining with eager anticipation. Natasha chuckles softly, shaking her head.

“All right, let’s see if we can find you something to eat.”

An hour later, Natasha finds herself in the Compound’s kitchen, waiting for the coffee pot to finish brewing as she reflects on the bizarre morning.

Just as the aroma of fresh coffee begins to fill the room, the elevator doors slide open, and Tony Stark comes strolling in, waving his phone at her.

“Someone explain why the emergency communication system I created is sending messages for cat food.”

Before Natasha can respond, Peter Parker swings in through an open window, landing at the kitchen counter with a large bag of cat food under his arm. He pulls off his Spider-Man mask, flashing a wide grin.

“No worries, Mr. Stark! I saw the message and picked some up on my way,” Peter declares proudly, placing the bag triumphantly on the counter.

“Thanks, Peter,” Natasha says, taking the bag and raising an eyebrow at Tony. “At least someone’s reliable around here.” 

“Anytime, Miss Romanoff,” Peter replies, rubbing the back of his neck shyly as he moves toward the sitting area. 

Meanwhile, Tony scoffs at her teasing jab, muttering her words mockingly under his breath as he turns to leave. But he freezes mid-stride, pointing toward the couch.

“Uh, what is that?” 

Natasha follows his gaze and sees he’s referring to where Wanda is sitting on the sofa, using her powers to create a small red ball of energy for Widow, who is happily pouncing at it.

“Her name is Widow,” Natasha explains as she pours the cat food into a bowl.

“You named a cat after yourself?” Tony snorts, shaking his head. “And people say I’m the narcissist.”

“She’s not mine,” Natasha replies, rolling her eyes as she walks past him toward the sitting area.

“So, you stole it,” Tony deadpans.

“Why is that the first thing that comes to your mind?” Natasha huffs, exasperated, as she sets the bowl on the floor.

At the sight, Widow scampers over, letting out a happy meow before digging into the food.

Natasha smiles softly, scratching the cat’s head as it eats, though her thoughts inevitably drift to you, wondering how she will return your cat to you.

Wanda, who’s been watching the scene with an amused grin, chimes in, “Natasha has a crush on the owner. She keeps thinking about her.”

“Oh, this just got interesting,” Tony says, leaning on the back of a chair with an intrigued smirk. “When did that happen?”

Natasha glares at Wanda before answering, “I met her on one of my runs. We talked. That’s it. Also, what have we said about reading people’s minds?”

Wanda raises her hands in mock surrender.

“I’m not, I swear. Your thoughts are just…really loud, and most are about her.”

Tony chuckles at the revelation, thoroughly entertained. He raises an eyebrow at Natasha, grinning.

“Nat, there are better ways to get someone’s attention than stealing their pet. I could give you some tips if you want.”

Natasha huffs, crossing her arms.

“I don’t need your help, Stark.”

Tony, unbothered by her dismissal, smirks.

“Then why haven’t you contacted her about the cat?”

“I don’t have her contact info,” Natasha admits reluctantly. “I didn’t get her number.”

Peter, who had been quietly watching the exchange, suddenly perks up.

“I have an idea!”

He pulls out his phone from his backpack, snaps a picture of Widow, and begins typing. A moment later, he shows the screen to Natasha. 

The post reads: “Cat found at Avengers Compound,” with Widow’s picture attached. 

“What’s this?” Tony asks, peering over Peter’s shoulder.

“It’s the ‘Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man’ app,” Peter explains animatedly. “You told me to focus on local stuff as Spider-Man, so I made this app where people can report crimes or activities happening in New York. This way, Miss Romanoff’s crush will see the post and know where to find her cat.” 

At his last casual remark, Tony bursts into laughter while Wanda hides her smile behind her hand.

“All right, that’s enough,” Natasha says, scooping up Widow and grabbing the food bowl. “Come on, Widow. Let’s get you some peace and quiet.”

With that, she leaves the room, escaping the playful teasing of the others.

Later that afternoon, Natasha returns to the common room and finds Peter frantically overturning the sofas.

“What are you looking for?” she asks, arms crossed.

Startled, Peter jumps, dropping the sofa back to the ground with a loud thud.

“Please don’t tell Mr. Stark,” he pleads.

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “What did you lose?”

Peter hesitates, then slumps his shoulders in defeat.

“Mr. Stark gave me a USB with the new suit design, and I was going to show him my modifications, but now I can't find it anywhere.” 

He starts pacing, clearly panicking, as he continues.

“I thought I put it in my backpack, but it’s gone. If I lost it in the city, Mr. Stark will never let me help with modifications again!”

Natasha steps forward, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, calm down. Tony will understand,” she says, nodding toward the window. “Why don’t you go check your place again? I’ll keep an eye out here.” 

Peter takes a deep breath and nods.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks, Miss Romanoff,” he says before pulling his mask back on and swinging out the window.

Natasha shakes her head with a small smile and resumes her original task—finding Widow, who had somehow slipped out of her room without Natasha noticing.

The little cat was proving to be surprisingly clever and stealthy. It seems you obviously trained her well.

After searching around for a bit, Natasha is about to check with Wanda when a pair of yellow eyes appear from the shadows on one of the black sofas.

Widow stares up at her, completely unbothered.

Chuckling in realization, Natasha sits beside the cat, gently scratching her head.

“You’re pretty good at hiding. I didn’t even realize you were there.”

Widow responds with a bored yawn, stretches her body, and then hops onto Natasha’s lap, curling up contentedly. As her eyes begin to flutter closed, Natasha frowns in realization.

“No, no, you can’t fall asleep on me. I’ve got things to do.”

Widow ignores her, already deep in sleep. When Natasha hears the soft sound of the cat’s snoring, she throws her head back against the sofa in disbelief.

Sighing, Natasha spots a tablet on the nearby table. She carefully reaches for it without disturbing Widow and begins doing some work.

After a moment, the rhythmic purring from the cat brings an unexpected feeling of calm and comfort to her, and before she knows it, Natasha’s eyes start to grow heavy, and she drifts off without realizing it.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been asleep when she wakes up, blinking groggily. As her eyes adjust, she notices a familiar face beside her—you.

For a brief moment, Natasha wonders if she’s still dreaming. Though, she doesn’t usually have dreams this pleasant. 

But then your eyes lift from your phone at her movement, and you raise an eyebrow, amused.

“For a hero, you sure take more naps than I expected.” 

Natasha blinks away the remnants of sleep, sitting up straighter, and tilts her head at you curiously.

“How did you get in here?”

You gesture casually toward the elevator. 

“I came by after seeing the post, and your teammate—Wanda, I believe—she said she recognized me, so she directed me here.”

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, you lean your head on your hand as your eyes twinkle with amusement.

“I thought I told you to find a better napping spot. This one’s just going to give you neck cramps.”

Natasha’s lips curl into a small smile as she gestures to Widow, still sound asleep on her lap. 

“Wasn’t exactly my choice.”

Your gaze drifts down to the cat, and you sigh knowingly.

“Widow, stop pretending and get off her.”

Natasha frowns in confusion at your words and snaps her gaze to the seemingly asleep creature on her lap.

For a second, the cat doesn’t move, but when you call her name again, a little more sternly, the cat’s eyes snap open.

Widow lets out an indignant meow before hopping off Natasha’s lap and licking her paws casually as if nothing happened.

Natasha shakes her head in disbelief.

“What a little liar.”

Groaning softly, she stretches out her stiff muscles and catches you watching her, your gaze lingering for a second too long.

When you realize she’s noticed, your eyes flicker back to your phone.

Natasha smirks, about to tease you, but then you show her the screen of your phone—the post Peter made about Widow.

“I need you to take this down,” you say, your tone serious.

Natasha furrows her brow but nods.

“Sure, I can do that. But why? It looks like she’s a hit with everyone.”

Your smile turns faint as you stand, the lightness in your expression turning somber.  

“Not all attention is good attention,” you say cryptically. 

Before Natasha can ask what you mean, you grab a pen from the table and reach for her hand. She watches in surprise as you scribble something on her palm. Your touch lingers for a moment, making her feel unexpectedly flustered.

“Here,” you said, finishing. “If Widow finds her way to you again, you’ll know how to reach me. Though, hopefully, you won’t need it too often.” 

Natasha glances at the number on her palm, then back at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Am I only allowed to use this for cat-related emergencies?” 

 You smirk, though there’s a hint of something more serious in your eyes.

“I’m not sure I’m someone you’d want to get involved with.” 

Natasha holds your gaze, intrigued.

But the tension is broken when Widow hops back onto the sofa, drawing both of your attention. The cat tries to burrow into the cushions, as if searching for something or determined to get comfortable again. 

You sigh, picking her up despite her annoyed yowl. Before leaving, you glance back at Natasha, tilting your head thoughtfully.

“Though… I guess a hello from the Black Widow every now and then wouldn’t be too bad.”

With that, you head to the elevator, disappearing behind its doors.

Natasha looks down at the number on her palm, a small smile playing on her lips. She finds herself hoping that Widow might "accidentally" find her way back to the Compound again soon—if only for another chance to see you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha didn’t have to wait long for another chance to see you, after all.

Just a few hours after your departure, late at night when the Compound was quiet, Natasha—still unable to sleep—wandered into the common room.

To her surprise, there you were, dressed in dark, stealthy clothes, frozen the moment you noticed her. 

Her instincts kick in immediately, and within seconds, Natasha has her weapon drawn, pointing it directly at you.

Yet, you show no sign of panic. Instead, you raise your hands slowly and tilt your head at her with a calm, almost amused expression. 

“You really shouldn’t be up this late, you know,” you say lightly, as if this was a casual conversation. “Messes with your sleep schedule.” 

Natasha ignores the teasing, her gaze unwavering and her senses on high alert. She didn’t feel any malice from you, but the situation is far too strange to let her guard down. 

“How did you get in undetected?” she asks, her voice low, tinged with suspicion.

With deliberate slowness, you gesture with one hand toward the open window behind you. 

“That was left unlocked. Pretty reckless for the Avengers.”

Natasha’s frown deepens as she glances at the window, already making a mental note to have Peter redo security training. 

“And the alarms?” Natasha asks, her weapon still trained on you.

You shrug casually.

“Let’s just say we have a lot of experience when it comes to not being seen.”

Natasha's eyes narrow at your words. "We?" 

You nod toward her feet, and Natasha briefly glances down.

Widow is there, casually walking through her legs and brushing her fur against Natasha with a soft purr, completely at ease.

When her gaze snaps back to you, you gesture toward her weapon. 

“Mind putting that away? I’m unarmed. You can check if you like.”

Natasha hesitates, her eyes studying you carefully, looking for any hint of deception.

But there is none.

Reluctantly, she holsters her weapon and steps closer, reaching out to pat you down.

You stand still, hands raised, letting her search you for any hidden weapons or gadgets.

“So, what are you?” Natasha asks, her tone sharp. “A spy?”

“Reformed thief, technically,” you reply with a casual shrug. “I don’t do this sort of thing much anymore.” 

You sigh lightly, casting a glance at Widow, who had settled by Natasha’s feet and is now nonchalantly licking her paw. 

“She, however, is still struggling to break her old habits.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, glancing at the cat.

“You’re telling me this cat’s a thief?”

You chuckle softly, catching the disbelief in her voice.

“I’m serious. Check my pocket—it’s the reason I’m here.”

Frowning, Natasha reaches into your jacket pocket, her fingers brushing against something small and metallic. She pulls out a USB drive, her eyes widening slightly in realization when she notices the small Spider-Man logo sticker on the side.

“I didn’t realize Widow had swiped it before we left earlier,” you explain, your tone sheepish. “I came back to return it before there’s any trouble.”

“Is that why you wanted the post deleted?” Natasha asks, her suspicion now tinged with curiosity. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” 

There is a brief pause as you meet her gaze. Your smile turns slightly rueful at the concern in her voice, and for a moment, something unspoken lingers between you.

“Let me worry about that,” you say softly, your tone more serious than before. Then you lift your hands slightly in surrender, a playful glint returning to your eyes. “So, are you going to arrest me, or am I free to go?” 

At that moment, Widow trots over, settling in front of Natasha and meowing softly as if to plead on your behalf. 

Natasha crosses her arms, her lips curling slightly in amusement at the sight, though the concern hasn’t left her eyes. 

“You two sure know how to double-team a person.”

You chuckle, realizing Natasha’s letting you go, and call your cat’s name. Widow immediately jumps into your arms, curling up comfortably. You look back up at Natasha, your expression softening.

“I told you—you wouldn’t want to get involved with someone like me.”

Natasha’s gaze softens in response.

“Your cat seems to think otherwise.”

You smile at that, gently shifting Widow in your arms.

“She’s got good instincts. A good judge of character, too. So, you must be really special if she’s interested in you.” 

For a moment, silence settles between you, broken only by Widow’s soft purring. The tension eases, but something still lingers beneath the surface—an unspoken understanding that there was more to your story, more to you, than you were letting on.

With a small smile, you take Widow’s paw and give Natasha a playful wave.

“You should head to bed soon, Miss Black Widow,” you tease softly, raising an eyebrow. “We wouldn’t want you napping in random spots again.”

As you move toward the window, Natasha steps closer, her voice lowering.

“You know, I don’t mind the visits from Widow. And the two of you don’t have to sneak in or anything. Just…come by whenever.”

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by her offer.

“Are you sure about that?” 

Natasha holds your gaze steadily. “Yeah. I’m sure.” 

You study her for a moment, then smile—a genuine, appreciative smile that softens the usual teasing banter.

“I’ll think about it,” you say with a playful tone.

With a quick nod, you adjust Widow in your arms and slip through the window with practiced ease. Natasha watches you disappear into the night, her mind spinning with questions and curiosity.  

One thing’s certain: this won't be the last time she’d see you and your cat. And to her surprise, she finds herself looking forward to the next time.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

a/n: thank you for reading!

[dawnoftime22]

just a little jealous.

| N.R

Warnings: None!

Summary: Natasha comes home to find out Liho has been taking her spot for you.

Word Count: 1.4k

Category: fluffy fluff <3

| Started on 12/10/2023, 6:45 AM |

| Finished on 28/10/2023 7:29 PM |

Masterlist

"But you are the first thing on my mind, always.

Does that count?"

"Traitor." - Nat, aou

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

"Детка (baby), I'm home!" Nat calls out into the house as she closes the door on the way in, but all that greeted her back was the quietness the place had.

"Детка?" She says yet again, questioning if you just hadn't heard her, because she knows you get a little too lost in your music at times.

She checks the living room, nothing but the tv remote still in its original place since she was last here, then the kitchen, and still nothing.

Then, something else greeted her. Black paws quietly ran across the room and a soft meow makes her look down. Liho was pawing at her legs, and Natasha bent down to grab her, the soft fur instantly making her relax.

"Hi there." Liho curled up against her when she pulled her to her chest, the feline closing its eyes at the comfortable spot it's in.

"You know where Y/N is? Hm?" Her hand goes up to pet Liho in between her ears, and while it started purring against her, Liho started to move her head, making Natasha move her hand to let the little one look wherever it's wanting to.

When the yellow eyes stared up the stairs, where supposedly, is in the direction of your shared bedroom with Nat, she gets what Liho was trying to say.

Nat walks towards and up the stairs, her legs leading her off to your shared bedroom together. The quietness that still stayed had Nat waiting in anticipation on what exactly you were doing. If you were watching a movie, she would have heard it by now, with how close she was to the room.

The door was open just a crack, so you could only see a glimpse of the inside, but just her seeing even a small strand of your hair made her a little calmer.

She steps inside, pushing the door gently with her hand but it still welcomed her with a soft creak. Although she was hoping to see you on the bed, safe and sound, she also wasn't expecting you to be sitting opposite of how someone would usually lay down in a bed.

You laid on your side, an arm and a leg half hanging off the bed, with your feet just below where the pillows are, and your head resting on a folded blanket. She wondered how exactly did you make yourself comfortable in that position, but had gotten distracted by the adorable pout you had on your face. You seemed spaced out.

When you heard the creak and noticed Nat walking in the room, your face brightens.

"There you are." The both of you said. Yes. The both of you at the same time. It would make sense for the widow to have said it, but when she heard the words echo back to her from your own mouth, she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

Then, Liho let out a meow and jumped off from her arms, landing gracefully down to the floor to go over to you instead. You opened your arms up, wanting the floof against your skin again.

Liho settles herself beside you, and when you finally, as Nat thought, looked up at her, she had her mouth slightly open in shock at how you almost didn't say hi to her first and wanted to cuddle with the cat.

You had a smile on your face already before giggling at how shocked Nat looked. "Hi," you say softly, as if you hadn't just absolutely betrayed her.

"Don't 'hi' me!" She still stood at the door, lifting her hands up in made up exasperation until she shook her head with a small smile, walking to you, (or so you thought) no, walking by you, to grab a pair of comfortable clothes from the closet.

Now you were the one surprised. But the both of you were smiling all the while. You lift yourself up to sit up slightly, leaning on your elbows. "Wait, I only greeted Liho first because she wasn't here when I woke up from my nap!"

"I wasn't either!" She claims, and although it was undeniably the truth, you did sleep while Liho was next to you, and she was off at work, until you woke up with the black cat gone, similar to the morning you had with Nat's warm body missing next to you just a few hours ago. Missing black cat, missing black widow.

"I'm sorry, okay? But hey, I still greeted both of you!" You say in defense. She raises her eyebrows at you, grabbing her towel to hang it on one of her shoulders. Her mouth, almost making out a small pout. But you bet she's trying her hardest not to let it show much.

"Should've been me first." she mumbles, turning around to head towards the bathroom. You just barely hear her, and it took everything in you not to laugh or aw at how jealous she was.

"What was that?" You ask, taunting her with a smirk that you're glad she couldn't see

"Nothing! Nothing." She huffs, walking off to the bathroom to clean herself off from today's work with her hands swatting in the air towards you without looking, as if signalling you to stop or go away.

When you hear the door closing with a click, you let out a quiet laugh, leaning back on the folded blanket you laid on.

"Did you hear what I heard too?" You whisper to Liho, petting her soft fur. The curled up cat didn't answer, and only purred with its eyes closed from your gentle hands.

You soon heard running water come from the bathroom, and although you loved teasing Nat, you were glad she's home again.

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Once Nat got back in the bedroom and put her clothes on, she sits down next to you, while trying to keep a small distance between the both of you.

"You know you're jealous over just one of the smallest, adorable beings on the world right?" you raise a brow at her, a smile ghosting your lips.

"Shut up." a chuckle comes out of you at her quick response, and you pull up the covers to cover up the both of you, making sure Liho didn't end up completely under them and suffocating or something. Nat's face softened slightly at the gesture as the covers warmed her up.

"You shouldn't be. You're the same, just more adorable." It clicked in that moment, that you were implying she was another small but most adorable thing in the world. Honestly, if she wasn't so in love with you, you'd probably be dead by now.

Natasha rolls her eyes playfully, and still a little annoyed, but the feeling doesn't stay much longer when you cuddle closer into her. Her heart can't resist making her arms put theirselves around your body.

Even if it was her heart, she kept her eyes focused on Liho, her hands slightly tightening around you, as if protectively keeping you away from the small unharmful cat.

You wriggle a bit out of her grip, which made her loosen her arms just a little, but watches you as she lets you turn around to make eye contact with the curious yellow eyes as Liho made its way to you.

Before Nat could pull you back closer to her, Liho unexpectedly, at first slowly reaches up with one paw on your shoulder, and then boops your nose with her other paw gently, making you let out a soft giggle and scrunch your nose. Natasha's heart melted, and as if the scene to look at wasn't just adorable enough, she had to hear your little laugh.

You then turn back to snuggle against Nat, but then lean up to put a small soft boop on her nose, too.

"Hey!" Nat splutters out lightly in surprise as she laughed along with you, warmth enveloping the both of your hearts, and maybe even Liho's, though she might just be confused at what the two of you are laughing about.

While you both calmed down, the black cat pads over to Nat's side instead, laying down and flipping around to stretch then show Nat her stomach. She pets Liho's head, her hand straying down away to it's body covered in soft fur.

Although she had to admit she was jealous, she still loves the feline friend even though it almost seemed as if it was trying to steal you away from her. But of course, what she loved most was seeing your adorable smile.

---------------

taglist <3 - join here! :]

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[sugar-coat-it]

Body piercer! Matty

Part 2 , Part 3

May I present my pride and joy (and first AU), body piercer Matty <3, based on the 2020 NOACF mohawk era

Fem! reader

****CW! Needles, pain****

Contains: Matty piercing reader’s nipples*, lustful fantasies, praise, Matty has a tongue piercing, HELLA tension and pining, Matty being a sweetheart through the whole thing

*note, I don’t have nipple piercings lol, apologies if any of this is inaccurate.

Word count: 5313

—------------------------------------------

PART ONE- Fate lands you in Matty Healy’s capable hands when looking to get your nipples pierced. Tension ensues.

—-----------------------------------------

The thought of getting your nipples pierced had been in the back of your mind for what felt like years. It nagged at you every time you saw a pretty girl with barbells poking out under her tank top, you wanted to be her. You’d done all the research, article after article on the healing period, the pain level, and the kinds of jewelry you can get. You also knew fairly well how they enhance sexual encounters, which had a whole draw of its own. You’d done everything except actually make the appointment. That is, up until a few days ago. Fresh off of a breakup and tired of feeling sorry for yourself, you’d called your local tattoo parlor and scheduled a slot with a body piercer named Maddie, then hung up feeling rather pleased with yourself for finally getting it done. The anticipation of the leadup to the appointment had you biting your lips raw. You’d gotten other piercings before, but never in a place so intimate. Never one that required taking your top off, that’s for certain. But friends had been encouraging you nonstop, telling you what a “hot girl” move it was, and who were you to argue? 

Finally, the day comes, and you’re swinging open the parlor door a little too hard, evidently very tense. The bell that jangles when the door opens clanks against the wall, making the man behind the counter startle. Wide-eyed and wincing, you shoot him an apologetic look, embarrassed that you’d practically ripped their front door off the hinge. Great start!

Slowly, after making sure the door is safely shut, you approach the counter, absentmindedly toying with the rings that adorn your fingers, twisting them between your thumb and your forefinger. The man at the counter is exactly who you’d expect to be working at a tattoo and piercing parlor, but an even more stunning rendition if you were being honest. His slightly sleepy-looking eyes brighten a little at the sight of you, a fluffy mohawk of chocolatey waves sitting atop his head. He’s adorned with inked patterns along his skin, a patchwork of symbols across his arms that you restrict yourself to only glancing at for a moment. His eyes crinkle at the edges when he greets you with a warm smile, offering a little wave before you start to explain why you’re here, your voice uncharacteristically high-pitched.

“Hi, I’ve got a 1:00 appointment?” you explain before providing your name, trying your hardest to stop fidgeting.

Your mind is in about 20 places, and it doesn’t help that your heart just fluttered at the eye contact he’s holding with you. The man nods at you, a low hum rumbling in his chest as he picks up the scheduling book, sifting through the pages with black polished nails. When he turns his head, you catch a glimpse of the single silver hoop earring that he’s sporting quite well. Curiosity creeps up like a slinking cat, making you wonder what other modifications he might have. His narrowed eyes scan the book, toffee-colored irises flicking over names until he finds yours penciled in, jabbing his nail against the page.

“Yeah I see you, you’re with me then. And, you did your paperwork and payment stuff, it looks like,” he says, snapping the schedule closed definitively.

“Oh, no I don’t think…” you start to correct, tilting your head at him with confusion until you trail off into quiet.

 That’s when it catches your eye, the nametag on his white tank top reads “Matty”. Then it clicks. Matty. Not Maddie. You’d scheduled your appointment to get your tits pierced with a guy. A very attractive guy that was now going to watch you squirm like a child. Your jaw drops slightly, a sinking feeling in your gut starting to fester as you realize your mistake.

“Everything alright there? Second thoughts, perhaps?” Matty prompts, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at you. 

“No… no second thoughts. To be honest, I thought I had an appointment with a female piercer,” you answer, preemptively grimacing before you’d even finished your sentence.

“Oh, shit. Well, that’s not ideal. Listen, we can get you in here another day then, no problem. Tell me what works for you,” he says, already scrambling for a pencil to put your name elsewhere in the book. 

“Actually, I think it’s fine. I’m already here, right?” you offer, shrugging to try and appear more nonchalant about the whole thing (your palms are sweating).

“Are you sure? Seriously, I don’t want you uncomfortable on my watch. It’s not a big deal to get you a different appointment,” he frowns, absentmindedly twirling the pencil between his fingers. 

His eyes are strangely soft for someone with such an intimidating job, you can only describe the feeling they give you as melting. You can’t quite place why, but his presence alone is somehow quelling your nerves, even if it’s just a bit. Your hands start to still, dropping to rest at your sides as you decide to let him do it anyway. He looks trustworthy, right? 

“Yeah, I’m sure. But thank you, truly,” you say, a soft smile pulling at your lips at how keen he seems on making you comfortable. 

Matty nods slowly, rising from the chair while eyeing you like he’s not sure if you’re going to turn on your heel and run out the door if he looks away. He asks you to follow him to the back, you’re trailing close behind as he pulls his baggy camo pants further up his hips by his belt. The room he leads you to is small and fairly chilly, but only in temperature. The space itself feels homey, plastered with stickers and posters of various punk bands, it doesn’t feel like some sterile hospital room. 

“Stay standin’ for me, just need to get some things,” he instructs, turning to reach for his supplies, including the jewelry you’d selected over the phone, “and, whenever you’re ready you can take your top off, okay?” 

Without the pressure of his eyes on you, it takes a moment before you slowly ease your shirt up and over your shoulders, setting it beside you. You take a slightly uneven breath as you reach to fumble with the clasp of your bra, suddenly forgetting the muscle memory from doing it for so many years. The moment it’s off, the rush of cold air instantly sends a shiver licking up your spine. You lean back against the counter, trying to appear as casual as you can as you eye the piercer. Your eyebrows slope with admiration, softening your expression as you realize that he’s now aimlessly fishing through a drawer, trying to give you time to ease into undressing while he’s still turned around. He stays with his back to you until you clear your throat, signaling that you’ve finished. His expression is unphased as he turns around on the heels of his platformed lace-up boots. God, he really is beyond cool, isn’t he? 

“Right, I’m gonna put these on, and then I’ll mark the placement,” Matty explains, holding up a pair of latex gloves. 

Matty pulls the gloves over his sizeable hands, the bulging veins catching your eye as he flexes his fingers to test that they’re taught. He’s taking a few steps closer to you, now only about an arm's length away as he explains that he’s not going to touch you without the gloves, though of course, your first unfiltered thought is that you wish he would. His eyes hadn’t strayed from your face for even a second this whole time, being remarkably neutral despite the fact that you were topless. Though, you suppose that sort of thing must not phase him since he’s probably pierced tons of nipples. That doesn’t stop the odd tinge of disappointment that he hadn’t even glanced at your body. You swallow the feeling like it’s bile, knowing that it’s totally unreasonable to want him to gaze at you with anything but professionalism. 

“Is it okay if I put my hands on you? Need to clean the area,” he asks, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort, it’s making you slightly weak in the knees, he’s just so fucking gentle. 

You nod, rolling your shoulders back in preparation for him to touch you while he pours solvent on a cotton pad. His disciplined, gloved hands reach out, and only now does he allow his gaze to dip down to your chest. You could swear his breath hitches just a little, the quiet room allowing for the smallest sounds to be heard. Maybe he is just a man after all. The thought makes pride simmer in your chest, but you’re not dwelling on it for long, your mind going blank the moment he starts to swiftly swipe the pad along your nipples, sanitizing your skin and also effectively making them harden from the stimulation. You tense up, standing straighter than before as you bite back any semblance of a reaction. Matty throws you a glance to assess your discomfort, soft brown irises following the slopes of your features. He places the sanitizing supplies to the side, now uncapping a purple skin marker. This was going to be a long process if he kept looking at you that way.

“Nothing's happening yet, okay? Just gonna draw on where they’re gonna go,” he says, holding it up while raising his eyebrows as if to say “Look, it’s harmless”. 

Matty leans in again, his eyes narrowing with concentration, gloved knuckles brushing the side of your breast as he marks a dot on the side of your nipple. Watching Matty stare at your tits with such laser focus has your cheeks flushing just slightly, heat prickling at the bridge of your nose. He runs the tip of the marker from one side of the hardened bud to the other, marking a symmetrical dot. Tingles spread under your skin like wildfire, he’s barely touched you and yet you can feel yourself buzzing at the slightest sensations. His pretty brown eyes meet yours and he just smiles at you sympathetically, knowing how hyperfocused on his every movement you must be.

“You’re not breathing,” he whispers, playfully jabbing the capped end of the pen against your arm. 

Your eyes widen as you realize that he’s absolutely right, you’d been holding your breath this whole time. You release your bated breath, your chest heaving slightly as Matty keeps looking down at you, giving you a moment to regain your senses. You swear the eye contact while being inches away from him is making you more lightheaded than the lack of oxygen. With a satisfied nod, he resumes, repeating the same process of drawing the dots at the peak of your other breast. Then, he takes a step back, biting the cap of the marker between his canines while he evaluates his work. This allows you another moment to admire him as he eyeballs the symmetricalness of his markings. Your mind is wandering, perhaps trying to distract you from how intently this man is studying your breasts. You’re wondering what it would be like if he wasn’t so gentle with you. What if he touched you instead with greed, the need to satiate himself? In your head, you imagine the warm, honey tones of his eyes darkening like tinted glass as he drinks you in not as his client, but as something to desire, to want to feel flush beneath his calloused fingertips. This version of Matty doesn’t try to limit every graze of his working hands, he’s starving; groping, and mapping every part of your skin that he can reach. You’re jumping the gun now, the image flashes through your mind like a ricocheting bullet: Matty’s got you pressed up against the wall, his hands are mean as he grabs a handful of one of your tits, his thigh is hitched between your legs, keeping your thighs parted. His head dips down, his shaggy mohawk tickling at your neck as he tugs on the silver barbell through your nipple with his teeth, pain melding with pleasure till they’re impossible to separate. And, oh, fuck, does he have a tongue piercing? Your eyes flick down to his mouth now, mind reeling as you spot the silver stud on his tongue revealed by the way he’s chewing on the cap of the marker. You are losing yourself, and fast, but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Alright, looks just about even. Would you go ahead and lie down there, darlin’?” he asks, cocking his head towards the reclined padded chair next to him. 

Now is where the nerves are starting to kick in, it’s all fun and fantasizing about your body piercer until you actually have to sit in the chair. You were hardly able to mentally fawn over the pet name as you took unsure strides to situate yourself in the cold, plastic parlor recliner. Matty busies himself with preparing various metal objects while you stare up at the ceiling, squinting at the fluorescent lights and wondering why you wanted your tits pierced so badly in the first place. Then, his unreasonably darling face is in your field of vision, peering down at you with a consoling smile.

“Comfy?” he prompts, a needle in one hand and a small pair of forceps in the other.

It’s not a comforting sight, no matter how lovely the man holding them is. 

“Sorta. I’m actually kind of a chicken about these things,” you admit with a wobbly smile in return.

“No… really?” he grins boyishly, clearly being sarcastic with you. 

You shoot him a look for that, but it melts away into a little laugh, you can’t seem to even fake a cold stare around him, it’s sort of pitiful. Standing over you, Matty raises the forceps close to your breasts but doesn’t touch you with them just yet. You bite your lip, lifting your head to get a better look at what’s happening, even though you’re not entirely sure you even want to watch. 

“Now, this is just going to feel like a little pinch, shouldn’t hurt,” he says, his voice lowering a little before he slips in a: “You’re doing really good.”

The praise tears your gaze away from his hands and onto his face, blinking in disbelief at the way he’d caused a fizzling pang of desire inside you so effortlessly. That feeling doesn’t get any weaker the moment you feel the cool metal clamp around your nipple, your lips parting with a soft gasp, hands tensing with the urge to hold onto something, to hold onto him. Matty’s pierced tongue darts out past his lips in concentration, soothing over his bottom lip as he lines the needle up next to the hardened bud. You jolt at the sharp tip of the object against your sensitive skin, your hand shooting out to grab onto Matty’s bicep in a moment of pure reaction. Both of you seem equally shocked that you’d suddenly clutched his arm, your nails slightly biting into his skin amongst the spattering of pretty freckles that mark him. There’s a moment of the loudest silence you’ve ever heard, his stare feels like it’s searing you. You’re about to rush into apologizing, but then he’s placing his tools back down onto his tray of supplies, tentatively reaching to rest his larger hand over yours, enveloping it in a way that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, I’m just lining up my shot. I’m gonna tell you when it’s time, okay? Just breathe with me for a moment,” he reassures, his thumb rubbing tenderly over the back of your hand. 

He takes an exaggerated breath, encouraging you to do the same, his chest rising beneath his white tank top. You mirror Matty, taking a deep breath in of, well… him. He smells like a dizzying combination of Marlboros and woody aftershave because of course, he does.

“That’s it, much better. It’ll be a whole fuckin’ ordeal if you pass out on me, so stay with me here. Can you do that?” he questions, raising his eyebrows at you. 

“Yeah… yeah, I can. Thank you,” you say softly, trying to disregard the sparks radiating under Matty’s palm. 

You stay like this for a few breaths longer, Matty doesn’t look away from you and you’re not so sure that it’s only because he doesn’t want you to conk out. His gloved hand gives yours an encouraging squeeze before letting go slowly. The heat still lingers as he retrieves his tools a second time, the flexing of his bicep under your grasp reminds you that you should probably let go of him now. But, the moment you start to retract your hand, he glances at you and speaks in that silky tone of his.

“You don’t have to let go, s’okay. You can use me like a stress toy, or something. I don’t really care,” he shrugs, winking at you. 

You just nod dumbly, your eyes going a little wider as you settle your hand over his bare arm again, right over the top of his Newcastle United seahorse tattoo. You’d like to use him in other ways too, but that’s not very appropriate, now is it? 

You let out a sigh as you come to the same point in the process again, Matty lining up the needle diligently while keeping your nipple clamped with the metal forceps, but this time, you get to cling to his arm. You don’t want to distract him, because it would be your loss in the end, but there is a sense of satisfaction when you feel his bicep flex slightly as you trace your thumb along the symbol inked on his skin, following the curve of the seahorses mane with your nail. 

“Okay, love. Here’s what’s gonna happen, I’m going to do it on three, and when I say three, I need you to take a sharp breath in for me, like this,” he instructs, then shows you what he means with a harsh inhale through his nose. 

You breathe out a weak “okay”, already gripping his arm harder from the anticipation building up to a high. You decide it’s best not to watch, especially since you’d promised you wouldn’t pass out. You let your head rest back against the chair, your nose scrunching as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Matty begins to count down, increasing the pressure of the clamp. 1. 2. 3. You inhale sharply through your nose at the same time that an unprecedented amount of burning pain reverberates through your chest, your eyes snapping open. You’re clawing at his arm, a cry ripping past your lips while tears well up and blur your vision. It’s a feeling so intense that it’s seeping through you to your stomach, crawling like the meanest sunburn. Of all the piercings you’ve gotten, you can say without a doubt that this takes first prize for the most painful.

“Oh, fuck!” you sob, the sound being embarrassingly close to a full-bodied moan. 

Matty slides the jewelry through while swiftly retracting the needle, trying to stifle the way the sound you’d made was affecting him, echoing in his skull in a way he knows it shouldn’t. He doesn’t even flinch despite the way your nails are leaving angry, red crescents marred on his skin. He quickly screws the barbell together before completely retracting his hands from you, taking one more glance at his handiwork before consoling you, his heart seemingly aching for the pretty girl in his chair.

“I know, I know. Hurts like a bitch, but you’re halfway done. Doing so good, you’re alright,” he murmurs, reaching the gloved back of his hand to your face to wipe some of the stray tears on your cheeks.

You just whine, the radiating pain only now starting to subside as you keep your hold on his arm, now smoothing over the marks you’d left with your fingertips as if you’re kissing them better. His thumb grazes along your cheek for a little too long for it to be accidental. Matty’s praise while he wipes away your tears is making your mind fuzzy, it’s like he’s numbing the pain; the sweetest morphine. 

Your gasps for breath are slowing, the pain like a dull pulse, easing its grip on you. Mortification is starting to sink in now that you’re not reeling from shooting pain. One of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen just watched you in one of your most vulnerable moments, and there’s still one piercing to go, much to your dismay. 

“Fuck, this is embarrassing,” you admit with a breathy laugh at your own expense. 

“Nah, don’t be embarrassed. You could’ve done much worse, probably,” he says, looking amused as he shakes his head at you.

“Like what?” “I dunno… like, socked me in the face as a fight or flight response.”

You laugh at that, a bright sound filling the room that makes Matty’s smile grow fonder as he gazes down at you with those pretty, sparkly eyes. The moment lingers on for a few beats, tension blooming between you that almost makes you forget about the throbbing ache of your left breast (almost). 

“You do know I have to do the other one right? Unless you’re a bit odd and like the one-piercing look,” he reminds cautiously over the clinking metallic sound of him picking up his tools. 

“I know,” you sigh, “can you do it fast?” 

“Erm… I’ll do it as quickly as I can without making it cockeyed, but I reckon you’ll be fine. Besides, the second one’s always easier from what I’ve seen.”

He doesn’t seem like the type that would elude you for the sake of false security, so you take his word as gospel, settling in to prepare yourself for what’s hopefully a more tolerable experience. His next words have your heart thrumming against your ribs.

“Can you handle it?” he asks, more of a challenge than a question.

You nod at him quietly, absentmindedly drawing little feather-light swirls on his bicep. The incentive of his praise is becoming all too tempting. You want to handle it, you want to show him that you can do it. There’s a new, honeyed kind of heat seeping into your bones. 

“Good girl. You’re a strong one, love,” he praises, sensing just how eager you are.

The next pulse you feel doesn’t come from your chest. Good girl? He has to be fucking with you. Jesus, does he talk to all of his customers like this? Does he wipe all of their tears too? Something in you wants to believe he doesn’t. He watches as your lips part slowly, your lashes fluttering as you look up at him. You have to know.

“Do you call all your customers that?” you whisper, blinking up at him coyly.

“Not really, no. Only the pretty ones who deserve it.”

Your breath comes out as a shudder, it’s unfair how easily he leaves you stunned. He clicks his tongue casually before getting back to work, all too pleased by the look on your face. You know the routine by now, Matty makes quick work of clamping your nipple and arranging the prodding tip of the needle just so. You’re still clinging to his arm, or your personal stress toy, something you’ve grown very familiar to the feel of throughout your time here. The countdown starts, he’s not giving you as much time to prepare. 1. 2. 3. What was more like a shriek from earlier comes out as a whine this time, a high-pitched, whimpery noise spilling from you. You don’t curse or practically maul his arm this time, but it’s still painful, you can’t say you’re fond of how vividly you can feel the needle go in and out amidst the burning sting. 

“Beautiful, atta girl,” he whispers, screwing the end of the barbell on before leaning back to admire his work, his eyes unabashedly glued to how the jewelry sits prettily on your breasts.

You have no clue if he’s talking about you, your tits, or the job he’d done, but it makes your skin warm all the same. 

Finally, you allow yourself to look at your chest, gently sliding your hand off of his bicep to prop yourself up on your arms and get a good look at the two new adornments. Shit, they look good on you, better than you’d hoped, and perfectly symmetrical thanks to him. He smirks when he notices the way you’re gawking at the piercings, knowing that the pain is barely a thought in your mind now, too distracted by how newly desirable you must feel. Matty likes knowing that one, he’s good at his job, and two, that he’s just helped you feel sexier. He’s really enjoying watching you admire yourself and in turn, his work. There’s a slight stir beneath his baggy pants, which he knows should never happen while he’s with a client, but you might just be the sweetest thing that’s ever been in his chair. He’s allowing himself a pass.

“Shit, Matty, they’re really nice,” you gape, your stomach swooping when you glance up to see the smug look playing on his lips.

“Yeah, they came out mint. Suit you nicely, don’t they?” he says, daring to dance along the line of being unprofessional as he then glances down at your tits and whistles. 

What a boy.

“Thank you… for everything I mean.”

“Don’t mention it, you were great,” Matty smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he waves off your gushing.

Butterflies are rampaging in your stomach, god, why does he have to be so lovely? He looks like he has something he wants to say, but it goes unspoken, rattling around in his head instead. His expression is hard to read, but would you be deluding yourself to say there’s a tinge of longing? A few beats of quiet tick by, and you’re now becoming acutely aware of the fact that you no longer have a reason to be topless, awkwardly crossing your arms. Always so attentive, Matty suddenly straightens up and reaches over your body, his chain dangling in front of your face as he grabs your shirt and bra from the counter. He places them on your lap and politely turns away as if he’s never seen you undressed, clearing his throat like that will clear the thick tension in the air. 

You wince as soon as the cups of your bra meet your immensely tender breasts, sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth as you power through clasping it. The sensitivity is something you’d been warned about, and now you get to joyfully experience it firsthand for the next however many weeks. Your eyes are on Matty’s back as you slip your shirt over your head, taking note of how rigid he seems as he gathers the after-piercing care papers for you. But maybe it’s in your head. You haven’t known him very long at all, it’s a dangerous game to assume any of the tension of this afternoon was real when you were freaking out for more than half of it.

“Right, any questions for me?” he asks, striding over to hand you the pages.

Are you single?Can we go out?Should we make out right now?How are you real?

“No, I think I’m alright.”

“Okay, well, if you’re not woozy, you can go ahead and stand up when you’re ready,” he says, clasping his hands together as if he’s wrapping up his job well done. 

With the care pamphlet in one hand, you start to slowly swing your legs over to the side, noticing the way Matty stands at attention like he’s ready to catch you if your legs give out. But they don’t, you’re able to stand with minimal wobbles, shaking out your hands to try and relax your poor, recovering body. 

The walk back to the front of the parlor is quiet, the both of you trying to grapple with the tension you couldn’t quite leave behind in the chair. There’s not much else to say, is there? You’re both standing next to the door now, and Matty retracts one of his hands from within his pockets to hold it out to you. Nothing says “I just blurred the lines of professionality while piercing your tits and now this is goodbye” like a good old handshake, does it? You try to keep your expression neutral even though this all feels quite bittersweet, grasping his hand with a firm shake. It’s the first time you’ve felt his hand without the latex glove between you, they’re soft, but you can tell he works with his hands, the callouses on his fingertips grazing your skin.

“Lovely to meet you, sorry I wasn’t a chick,” he chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, you too. And don’t worry about that, I’m glad it was you,” you reply, perhaps being a little too sincere, but it feels right to say. 

“... well, listen, get home safe, alright? Take care of yourself, call if you have any problems,” he says, once again seeming like he’s biting his tongue, keeping himself from saying something to you. 

You reach for the handle of the door, but you don’t open it. You look back at him like you’re giving him one more chance to tell you what you’re hoping to hear, but he doesn’t, he just offers a nod with an unreadable expression on his face. Heartache.

“See you, Matty,” you nod in return, opening the door and shutting it behind you.

You evaluate your situation on the walk back to your car. You’ve rid yourself of the urge to get your tits pierced, and they look fantastic, but your new problem is that you have a massive crush on your body piercer that you’re likely never going to see again unless you get another piercing. It’d be a rather expensive hobby to get a piercing just to see his face, so scratch that. Your only option is to be reminded of him every time you take your shirt off, how miserable is that?

Little do you know, the moment the shop door closed behind you, Matty groaned with his face in his hands, mentally kicking himself for not asking you out, or at least getting your number. Sure, you were a client, he had to be careful, but shit, you weren’t just any client, now were you? What was wrong with him? Something about you left the body piercer stiff and tongue-tied, replaying every moment of your encounter back in his mind. Never in his life had Matty Healy felt anything for a customer.

—---One month later—----

After a hellish month of healing, scabbing, and getting your piercings caught on things, you’ve decided that there’s no real point in having nipple piercings if no one gets to see them but you. You’d like to tell yourself that you don’t think about Matty as much anymore, but that would be laughably dishonest. Dating apps are just about one of the most aggravating wastes of time ever, and you’ve had no luck meeting people naturally, so here comes the next best thing: blind dates. Your close friend fancies herself to be somewhat of a matchmaker, she’s been talking up this guy to you for days now, telling you how funny and totally your type he is, and nothing could possibly go wrong if she set you up. You have your doubts, but still, you find yourself in a cafe waiting for your mystery man to sweep you off your feet with his supposed punchy one-liners. What you don’t expect, however, is to watch a very familiar mohawked man stride into the place, the eyes that have patronized your dreams every night scanning across the cafe until they lock onto you. 

—----------------------------------------------

Don’t you worry, I won’t leave you hanging with just tension, ofc there’s going to be a smutty part two <3

Thank you very much for reading, I hope it wasn’t underwhelming! And thank you to any other writers that I reached out to to consult about my ideas, ily, mwah!

[styxwanderer]

The Wrong Fake Identity | Twisted Wonderland [pt.6]

part 1 Part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 <part 6> part 7

[A for Abduction, B for Bribery]

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙˚*

Word of you secured in the dragon’s and his herds arms spread wide. Some were brought to despair, some are brought to joy, some are brought to anger, some are even more determined.

“Of course the final boss would be the dragon, but there is nothing me a genius can’t do hehe..”

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

“Silver! How do i look!” You enthusiastically walked up to him, now dressed in the black and green uniform. 

“..it.. it looks good on you, y/n.” The precious boy stammered. His unique orb staring at you.

You had no idea why, but you felt yourself wanting to hug the silver haired boy, or maybe sleep on top of him. You just need to get him to lie down first.

“Come, we should show father and malleus!” 

“Alright.”

You intertwined your hand with his as you cling to him. Silver was shocked out of his mind from your boldness, even more so when you started purring in his hold, but he wouldn’t mind it either, it’s just a matter of keeping his heart steady that he mind. He could bow hear his heart beating in his ears, he just hope his complexion is not as obvious as his heart is.

“We are back father, Malleus.” 

“Oo welcome back—“ the both of them stood shock at your close proximity with silver, even so when you start to rub your cheeks against his biceps. 

“Aaa~ it seems this little kitty is very attached to you silver, after all you had been very good with animals.” Lilia can’t decide if he should be proud of his son or be jealous that he is favored by you. He had agreed to share you, but that doesn’t mean you can have favorites amongst them. 

Malleus was jealous, he had known you longer than silver but why must you choose silver? That’s alright, he would just prove to you that he is much kore deserving of your favour than the silver haired boy. 

“Child of man…” sitting in his throne, he called to get your attention, trying to get you to come to him. 

You ignored him, silence filled the room making silver sweat a drop, not wanting to offend his Leige. This makes malleus hurt.

“Come kitty, you can’t act so spoiled. When your king called you, you need to acknowledge him.” Lilia pried you off his son, sensing the jealousy that bubbles up the dragon fae.

“Malleus hold this.” Lilia throw a mouse toy connected to a string. This caught your attention, you begun to approach the dragon.

“Oh?! You wanted to approach me now that i have this? Interesting indeed.” Malleus swish the stick back and forth. Your head, of course follow. 

You leap to the toy trying to catch it, but Malleus had retracted the toy to his hand holding it. Your eyes remain slitted as you readied yourself.

“Oh?”

You pounced to his lap shocking the trio. In a reflective movement, malleus had stretched the hand to the air, and accidentally dropped it. 

“Oh no-“

You being a spoiled naughty cat you are deciding the best course of action is to jump over malleus, your feet stepping on top of his head, between his horn and leaped behind him to catch your prized mouse.

“Nyaa~” you meowed amused with your catch. The room once again become silent, 

“Ahahahahahha, how brazen this cat is, i have never had anybody even dared to think of stepping my head. Me, the heir to the briar valley. How amusing~”

“Hahahha.. if sebek is here he will either foam in his mouth, or have a mental breakdown, maybe both.” Lilia laugh

Silver too joined in, finding your boldness endearing and adorable, he wouldn't mind  if you had stepped on his head too. 

you returned to Malleus lap, finding it comfortable enough, this had made Malleus ecstatic tho he tried his best to hide it. you finding your foot print to be dirty and half guilty over your action decided you need to clean your mistake, you licked the top of his head grooming his hair back to its proper state. 

a prince can't have a messy hair! 

"oh my! your bravery is very admirable! The soldier in briar valley ought to learn a thing ir two from you." lilia mused

"lilia.."

"hmm.."

"how long does it take to plan a wedding.”

“Ohh my! Well it might take a year or two. But with a skillful fae it could take a day or two.”

“Malleus, is it not too early? We are still at school.” Silver chirped in.

“Doesn’t matter, they had accepted me as hers.”

“But-“

Malleus haul you up and spins you around. The blushing fae is spinning the room with you, still confused of the situation and more preoccupied with the toy in your hand:

“We shall be wed And have a kid or two. Our wedding would be the most magical! What a dream come true~”

Even though silver and lilia are a bit jealous that Malleus are abled to gain the title your husband, they wouldn’t mind at all since a king’s job would be plenty, and of course there should be somebody looking over you while your beloved husband is away. 

With Malleus preoccupied to plan the wedding he have silver and lilia to look over you, your over energetic drive have driven both lilia and silver out of their energy. 

“Oh no..” silver said mid playing as he felt himself getting drowsy and drowsier. Then  silver passed out on the floor.

“Noo.. you can’t leave me Silver, haaa-“ 

Lilia looked back at you thinking he have to continue to play with you alone but to his surprise you just walked toward silver before curling up on top of his abs and enjoying the boy’s warmth.

“ i guess the whole cat mouse game had also tire you out.” 

A rumble in your stomach became a bell to lilia.

“Oh! You are hungry too? What a demanding kitty, what can i do? I shall make you a grand fiest.” 

You were about to protest but all is too late since lilia bolted out of the room.

“I should just topple the plate over once he comes back for bow i shall enjoy this nice pillow” you thought.

“Psst…”

“PSSSSTTTTTTT…..”

There is a voice again, you looked around to find the source. A hand then came out of the big door.

“Come here kitty kitty kitty~~~” it whispered 

“What is this smell?” You thought 

“It smell, so… so very..”

“Nice!” 

You bolted towards the door to find the source of such delectable smell.

“Idia?? Nice to see you here! Also.. heyy~ what’s that sticking all over you? It smells so good~” 

You grow closer and closer to the guy sniffing him up and down. Idia is standing nervously, he had somehow managed to stick a lot of catnip all around his clothes hair and body, stuffing as much as he can inside under his jacket of course.

“It..it doesn’t matter, the smell, its just something special for you..” his voice getting lower towards the end.

“Ohh! Idia you are the best!” You hugged the now pink flame haired boy. 

“Eh uhm not really.. haha.. so you would want to come with me righht? Ill give you lots of these if you come with me.” The nerveous boy had somehow snapped his personality to a cocky bastard. 

“Yess! YES! Where should we go?” 

“Just follow me!” 

You are latching yourself to Idia as you give his occasional rub on his neck, his arm, his chest, sniffing the delectable smell. 

You had been successfully stolen by the timid boy. 

Once malleus and lilia came back and finding the passed out silver and not a single strand of your hair in sight, a thunder roars through diasomnia. This snaps Silver out of his dream. 

“FIND HER, and punish those who dare to steal from me!” 

“Yes, malleus.”

“What is this smell?” 

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

Meanwhile in Ignihyde,

“Awhh whose the good kitty?” 

“Me! Me!” 

You had a brad new collar, a blue triangle patterned collar with a beautiful silver charm, which engraved “ property of Idia, please return” on the back side of it. You are given a comfortable ignihyde uniform. You are nuzzling Idia in his room, enjoying the comfort of his body and the addictive smell. 

You hug him close rubbing yourself everywhere around his body, sniffing him close. You can never get enough of his smell. 

“I am the best, i am a genius. Not even the final boss can win against my brilliance” Idia thought, patting himself on the back for his brilliant idea. No body could rival his brilliance he manically laugh inside. 

He decided to play his  game in his bed as you latch to his torso, sitting in his lap. The both of you comfortable with each other. A peck of pink flame always colouring Idia’s hair. 

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

“Ignihyde dorm leader had taken y/n away from him.” The news spread. 

“That guy?!!” Ace half-shouted shock.

“Well he is quite a cat lover, Still we have to get y/n back!” Grim grumbled

“HOW DARE HE STEAL THEM AWAY FROM MY LEIGE!!” 

“We hafta to et em back! “

“Uhmm.. to get them away from my brother.. is going to be quite hard..” Ortho ponders.

“A! Its because you are on his side isn’t it!” Ace accused.

“Not its not!! Its just the fact that Idia manage to steal them away from the final boss means that he also come prepared, like a final boss.”

“What ever would make them go with that guy.” Deuce ponders. 

“Delivery for Idia shroud.”

The five of them glanced back at the rabbit delivery courier. 

“Oh! Deuce! Nice to see you here.”

“Nice to see you too, can we help you with something.”

“Ah its just, do you know where to find idia shroud.”

“Oh yes he is my brother.”

“Is that so, well i got a package, I don’t know where to drop it off, he said he is going to meet me but i guess he lost track of time.”

“Geez typical of my brother.”

“Right i will just leave the package to you, please sign here.”

“Okay.”

“And here is your package.”

“Uwaaaaa!” Ortho almost tumble down as he try to hoist the package up. 

“What is this? Why is it so heavy!!”

The courier had already left probably in a hurry.

“ hey.. that’s idia’s right?” Grim said.

“Yes..”

“The  he must’ve building something that capture y/n or some defense! If we get to know what he is building then we can defeat the final boss eaze peaze right?” Grim smirked

“Oh! Nice thinking! Now open the package!” Epel enthusiasticly said. 

“Wait! No! If brother know you went through his stuff! He will be mad!!!” 

“What he doesn’t know wont bother him!” Ace smirked closing in on ortho who is trying to protect his brother’s package.

“YES ! LETS UNCOVER WHATEVER THAT HUMAN IS PLANNING ON! HURRY HAND IT OVER!” 

“Im sorry ortho but this is for the best.” 

“NOOoooo..”

Jack hauled the box out of Ortho’s grasp as he open it. 

“Eugh this smell. Ah!” Jack had accidentally thrown the box down. Letting it’s content to spill.

“Hey! Computer program is very delicate ya know!”

“It isn’t computer program.” Jack answered.

“Huh?” 

“AAAAHHH!!!” A collective gasp were heard.

“Catnip?!!” 

“THAT BASTARD Is bribing my henchhuman!” Grim fumed. Even though, it smelled good, if you aren’t there to serve him he rather not have it. 

“ THAT BASTARD ID DRUGGING THEM!” Deuce yelled.

“That’s rude! My brother is not that low! He must’ve used this … for other reasons… probably..” 

“WHATEVER! Now this is ours we can used it however we liked, even to lure a certain cat!” Epel smirked.

“Nice thinking! Human!” Sebek.

“Oh what’s with the commotion here?”

“AAAHH!! Its Riddle, Trey, and Carter!!” 

“It is certainly noisy around here.” Azul and the tweek appeared 

“ stop yapping already, and what is this smell?” Leona said wincing his nose. Ruggie walking aside, hand behind his head. 

“Ohhh!! Is there something going on here?” The scarabia duo come in. 

“ what a troublesome thing, epel i expected you to be more reserved around these miscreant. “ vil and room has also joined them.

“Oya oya? Is there some sort of meeting we are not invited into?” The diasomnia trio appeared. 

“Ah look its the traitor group.” Leona taunted.

“Whatever shall we do to a grouo of traitor.” Azul joined in.

“A beheaded sure is filling for the crimes of betrayal is it not.”

“Truly it is, afterall  a dog that bites the hand that feeds them needs to be punished.”

“EEEKH!” 

“Hahaha, don’t be too cruel now you two, now that item, it’s idia’s is ot not?”Azul chuckle 

“Ooo? He is building something to building a project?” Malleus questioned

“My brother’s business is none of your business!!”

“Plus it’s finder’s keepers so HANDS OFF!”

“Oh still dare to bark?”

“Ohh look at all those catnip.” Lilia suddenly show behind them.

“ARGHHHH!” 

“Malleus could this possibly the smell from before?”

“Hmm.. It Is! Haaa unexpected of shroud, he dared to enter the dragon’s territory and claim his bride/groom? How terrible.”

“Ha? Whose bride/groom?” Leona retorted.

“Of course they should be mine, None of you know how to take care of them properly!” Vil joined.

The seven of them tried to escape but were soon caught by the tall huge juniors.

“Where are you going noww? I havent squeeze you all yet~”

“Hahaha, that’s true, floyd needs his fill for today.”

“Stop this little pups..” 

The potionlogy came with Crowley who was tied and forced to go whereever he is, Sam, Vargas, and also Trein. 

“Stop fighting against each other for once we have greater problem.”

“What is it?”

The first year could only sigh and surrender to  whatever fate is to come.

After the explanation the second and third year felt like hunting and mauling the crow. 

“Eekh! I told you im sorry already! It’s not my fault —“

“Its your fault ya kno..” Sam interrupted.

Vargas is trying to calm the boiling crewel.

“Ha, we need to catch them before the inspector comes and give them the antidote to their potion.” Trein concluded.

“This package, idia’s package might’ve proven to be useful to us.” Crewel said

“we need to come up with a plan.”

“Haaa, im sorry brother.” 

[ Words 2505]

>> to be continued<<

.·:*¨༺ ❈ ༻¨*:·.

[ maybe i should add tw: druging LOL]

Taglist:

@agaygothicmushroom

@feverish-dove

@jjsmeowthie

@losingmybrain

@mysticcyan

@valentinaagarcia

@fancyhawk45

@ayanokomu

@mel-star636

@haveneulalie

@lanxianschoenheit

@wisteriarose214

[readerstories]

In Rain and Mud - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 3/4

God damn this is a long one, these men have me in a strangle hold. (Part 1) (Part 2) (AO3)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence,porn with plot, biting, blood, smut, anal fingering, oral, anal

Wordcount: 7209

Summary: Your cabin lays far away from anything and everything. And with the rainstorm currently battering the woods this night you don’t expect to see or hear another human being until you leave for town. So when there’s banging on your door, you switch your book with your shotgun from its place on a sidetable, loading it as you approach your door.

Getting out of the shower, you feel a lot fresher and better not smelling like blood and guts. It took several rounds of shampoo and soap to get it all out, but now you are clean. A little sore, but clean.

As you step out of the shower you realize the scent of blood is still lingering in the air, faint but noticeable enough to make you sniff the warm and humid air.

Grabbing a towel to put around your shoulders, your nose leads you to your laundry hamper, Logan’s and Wade’s suits next to it with two black damp towels sitting on top of your laundry. Logan’s suit is folded, Wade’s is crumpled on the floor. Picking up one towel, you sniff it. It smells of tobacco, leather, earth, and blood. Blood of multiple people.

Interesting.

Dropping one towel, you pick up the other. The blood is very much there too, but the rest of the smell is like sticking your nose in a bag of gummy worms. Sweet and artificial. 

You assume this is Wade, and the first was Logan.

Deciding you should probably stop smelling dirty laundry, you dry off, combing your hair into a somewhat controlled mess after you fluff it up with your towel drying, before wrapping the towel around your waist. They have already seen you nude, but it’s the principal of it. That was right after a fight, this is too long after it to be casual or in the moment.

Stepping out of your bathroom, you find Logan sitting on the couch, Wade wandering around the room poking and prodding at your stuff.

“Finally!” Wade exclaims, cutting off a sentence that you barely catch the end of, something about cats and dogs? “Thought you were going to be there forever and we would have to leave without seeing that pretty face and body again.” Wade strides over to you in what can almost be described as a bounce, grabbing a clean pair of green sweats and a black t-shirt he had apparently raided your dresser for. 

“Boo for the towel sweetcheeks. You couldn’t even leave a few water droplets for us to watch running down that hot and hairy bod, and to fantasize about later?” He grabs your shoulder, leaning in to sniff loudly right next to your ear before pulling back.

“You smell like wet dog.” He grins and you growl at him, your vocal chords changing enough that it comes out more wolf than human.

“Just get in the fucking shower Wade.” You have half a mind to just throw him outside and make him shower with rainwater running off from your roof, but he lets go of your shoulder.

“Yes captain, yes sir.” He gives you a mock salute, topped with a wink just before the door slams shut behind him. You roll your eyes at him, looking at Logan to see if he agrees with you that Wade is the most unserious man you have ever met. 

You notice the beer bottle in Logan’s hand and an empty bottle of whiskey (you assume and hope from last night) on the floor just after making brief eye contact with him. You glance at the clock. 

9 am. 

You look back at him, he stops with the beer bottle half way up to his mouth, tilting his head and raising a brow.

You shrug after a few seconds. None of your business.

“Just leave some for me.” Is all you say as you head to your bedroom, grabbing the clothes you stripped off before the fight. Smart thing would have been to pick them up earlier and get them with the rest of your laundry, but for now you toss them into a corner of your room, grabbing a clean white t-shirt, and new (plain, but practical, thank you very much) boxers, reusing your grey sweatpants, deeming them clean enough. You forego socks, padding back out into the living room on bare feet.

Logan has left the couch, beer set aside as he kneels in front of your fireplace, building up with logs to start a new fire with the few smoldering embers from last night's fire. You can hear Wade singing something in the bathroom, it sounds like a Taylor Swift song, you can’t place it, but you can hear how out of tune it is.

You don’t say anything to Logan, leaning your hip against your couch and watching him as he works, tuning out Wade as good as you can with enhanced hearing. 

You kind of wish you had given Logan a t-shirt instead of a hoodie, so you could have maybe, if the shirt was tight enough, watch his back muscles move. 

With practiced ease Logan gets good results just a few moments later, flames licking greedily up the newspaper and logs, casting a warm glow. He gets up with the smallest of grunts, which you wouldn’t have heard if you had normal hearing.

He doesn’t seem surprised in the slightest as he turns around and finds you looking at him, his expression neutral as it can be with those frown lines. You briefly wonder what other abilities he has other the the knuckle knives and healing that left his hands looking untouched. 

Your stomach chooses that moment to gurgle with hunger. A raised brow from him in humor at your uncontrolled stomach.

“You want a sandwich?” You don’t know why you ask him, to be polite you assume, as unusual that is for you in this whole weird situation.

“No.” His answer is to the point. “No thank you.” He adds as an afterthought, seemingly just as unused to being polite as you are. You shrug in acceptance, walking to your fridge as he goes back to the couch, grabbing a book from a shelf on the way.

He starts reading as you make your sandwich, the silence of the room broken only by the crackling of the fire and Wade’s still very off key singing, now it’s a song you definitely don’t recognize, something about underwear?

Whatever.

You finish making your sandwiches, taking your plate over to the couch, you too grabbing a book on your way to read. Logan glances at you as you sit down, there’s two armchairs you could have sat in, but you want your comfy corner on the sofa, so he will just have to share.

Besides, it makes it easier to discreetly smell him while you eat. He smells of tobacco and leather, but also a little bit like your conditioner and mild laundry detergent. He must have showered last night, stealing your products. You wonder if he styles his hair into those little tufts he has (which kind of look like cat ears), or if it falls like that ‘naturally.’

You know Wade is also using your products right this second, though at least he won’t need your shampoo and conditioner. 

Speak of the devil, the door to the bathroom slams open, Wade stepping out in a cloud of steam, making you both look up at him.

“Ahhhh, I feel like heaven! You gotta tell me where you got that watermelon scrub, makes me feel smooth like a baby all over.” You stare at Wade, because he’s wearing a t-shirt that you had gotten as a joke gift from a friend, (that you thought you had burned years ago), that says “I <3 big titted men” in bold white letters.

“Where the fuck did you find that?” It’s a little tight on him, becoming tighter as he flexes jokingly, almost posing for you to take him in fully. Which you do to be fair, he’s a lot fitter than you thought after that first glance when he was just wearing his pants yesterday.

“Top left drawer pookie. You’re due for a closet cleanout b-t-dubs. But also a closet upgrade, cause there was like, no fun underwear in there, not even some with those little comic red hearts on them.” He plops down between you and Logan, making Logan grunt and you growl at him as he steals half of one sandwich.

“You guys having a book club over here, or have I missed some important plot?” You eye him in annoyance, the stolen part of your sandwich disappearing quickly into his mouth. He tries to grab the other half, but you slap his hand away, which he pulls back quickly and holds with an over-dramatic pout.

“Not much else to do, other than watch whatever dvd’s I have, which I’ve already seen all off.”

“Boooorrrinnnggg. The books, not the dvd’s, I’m sure you got some real juicy ones in there.”

“Knock yourself out.” You gesture to the cabinet below your tv, and he quickly gets up, knocking his legs into yours. He tries another swipe of your sandwich, all he gets is another slap to his hand, though you are tempted to slap his thigh since it was within reach, but you restrain yourself. 

He kneels in front of your dvds, but before he can open his mouth to say more shit, you decide to ask a question that has been on your mind since the fight (or slaughter you suppose) in front of your cabin.

“Who were those people? In the tactical gear.” 

“Bad guys!” Wade comments, while reading the back of a dvd. “It was a job, we attacked a facility of theirs not far from here.” You frown.

“There isn’t supposed to be anything around here.”

“Well there isn’t anymore!” Wade cheerfully replies as he opens a case, taking out the disc and inserting it into your dvd player.

“Genius over here blew it up, along with our ride out of there.” Logan helpfully supplies, voice gruff and clearly having had enough of Wade’s shit a long time ago before you even met them.

“Oh shush you Mr grumpy, at least it led to this sweet man and his sweet bod and his sweet cabin.” Wade pinches your cheek as he settles down, earning yet another slap to his hand, the want for you to strangle him starting to build in the back of your brain.

“That does mean that we technically owe you money though, since you took down a good part of their team. Brutally, but very beautifully I might add.” You snort, taking a last bite of your sandwich. You notice how Wade follows the motion with his eyes briefly before starting to fiddle with the remote to your tv.

“No thanks, I’m not that desperate right now.”

“Ohhhh, someone has a big dark secret??” Logan turns his head to watch you out of the corner of his eye, his ability to only pay attention to only the words that matter from Wade’s mouth a clearly much learned and needed ability.

“Not really, just doing some dirty work here and there when my part time butcher job wasn’t enough, not much more to it.” You shrug, glancing at the TV, noticing of all things Wade had chosen “The First Wives club” as the movie to watch.

“Awww, a little baby mercenary!” He goes to pinch your cheek again, you catch his wrist, tempted to break it, but you just throw it in his lap instead. Logan watches the exchange with a barely there upturn of his lips that you just manage to catch before his face is his usual neutral scowl.

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Noted, baby is off limits, but sweetcheeks and handsome is not.” Wade grins and you roll your eyes.

“You fought something fierce out there.” Logan's voice is rough, cutting of whatever asinine thing Wad was about to say. You assume it’s meant as a compliment from Logan, taking it as such, though you shrug.

“I’m a mutant, it’s not the first time I had to defend something that’s mine, or use my powers for something grisly.” Your tone is light, it’s just a fact of life really.

“Awww, schnookums, you already think of us as yours!” Wade swoons, hips knocking into you and Logan, hands on his face and voice going into a higher pitch.

“The cabin you idiot.” You promptly ignore the little stutter your heart gives at the idea his words plants in your brain, and hope Logan is too deep in his second beer to notice or at least care. “Didn’t want it full of bullet holes.”

“Well, we were in front of it, which means we would also have been full of bullet holes, which means you do care.” Wade staples his fingers under his chin, blinking innocently up at you. Well, as innocent as a merc can blink covered in scars and bumps while you were told that he blew up a building the day before, before turning up on your porch smelling of blood. 

You look at him incredulously, book long forgotten in favor of this strange man. If nothing else, he keeps your attention easily.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” You glance over Wade towards Logan. “Have you ever heard him shut the fuck up?”

“I keep talking unless my mouth is otherwise occupied handsome.” Wade says and winks, patting your thigh.

It’s far from the flirtiest thing that has spewed out of his mouth since you met him, but for some reason this time, it plants an idea in your head.

You look at Logan, who is rolling his eyes, but when you keep looking he squints and raises a brow. You glance at Wade, who’s still talking, though you have tuned his words out.

There’s a question in the tilt of your head and mirrored raised brow. Have you ever…?

Logan frowns as he realizes your silent question, shaking his head.

Turning your head the other way and glancing back at Wade, there’s a new question. Would you…?

Logan licking his lips, tongue barely peeking out is a clear answer.

“Hey, stop talking with your eyebrows, it’s not fair when I don’t have any!” You tune back into Wade, who clearly had realized that you weren’t listening to him, though you don’t think he has quite realized what silent questions and answers were happening right in front of him. He looks between you and Logan, the latter just staring at you.

You take that as an invitation to start whatever the hell this is going to be. You grab the collar of that god ugly t-shirt, pulling Wade closer to you.

“Hey, hey, be careful with the merchandise.”

“Wade.” Logan speaks from behind him.

“Was it the eyebrow comment? Really? That was what pushed you over the edge? To be fair to me they are bushy and match the whole wo-”

“Wade.” Logan growls his name out, making Wade whip his neck at an impressive speed, finding him closer than he was seconds ago. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” You can already see the protest forming in Wade’s throat, so you turn his head towards you with a gentle hand on his jaw, stopping those words with a brief kiss to his scarred lips.

They are bumpier than anyone else you have kissed before, but you certainly don’t mind.

You only let the kiss last for a few seconds, pulling back just enough to gauge Wade’s reaction. 

His eyes are closed, but he opens them and blinks as more than a few seconds pass since the end of the kiss.

“If that’s all I’m gonna get, I am going to say you are really bad at edging.” You snort. So at least the flirting wasn’t all for show. Using your hold in his shirt, you pull him forwards, somehow maneuvering you both so you are leaning your back against the arm rest, Wade straddling your lap.

“If this is not your wet dream, it’s certainly one of mine.” You have one hand fisted in his t-shirt still, the other settles on his hip. His hands wander all over you. “You run warm. Is it the whole wolf thing? You are hot in more ways than one, though if you are just gonna hold me here and do nothing, I am going to call you a lot worse words than a god damn tease- Oh my god.” You grin up at Wade as Logan presses himself against his back, one hand on Wade’s unoccupied hip, the other covering your hand in his hip.

“Okay, this is definitely my wet dream now.” Wade laughs, his eyes wide, clearly not believing what is happening just yet. To convince him that this is real and not a dream, you tug on his shirt again to pull him into yet another kiss.

This one is longer, messier, deeper. You discover the inside of Wade’s mouth is soft, one place his scars haven't touched.

Your tongue explores the skin there as you wonder how it would feel around your dick. His hands are constantly moving, gliding through your hair, over your chest, down your stomach, up over your side. Not staying still for a second, but not even attempting to touch you where you want him to most.

And he had called you a tease.

Wade lets you do as you please, though he tries to give as good as he gets, but he’s somewhat distracted with the weight of Logan pressing into him, but also making him grind down on you with your combined hands on his hips. 

Your own cock grows hard in your sweatpants, making your hips twitch up towards Wade, well as much as you can with two men pretty much in your lap, one noticeably heavier than the other.

Wade whines, noise escaping between kisses, making a pleased rumble work its way up from your chest without really meaning to. Logan groans behind him, letting go of Wade’s hip to slip his hand into your hair, getting a good grip and tugging. You groan, it makes you break the kiss with Wade.

“What the hell Logan, can’t you see- Oh!” Logan leans forward even more, effectively squeezing Wade between the two of you as he pulls you into a kiss. He is softer than Wade, but hairier, his beard rubbing against you deliciously. His tongue dips into your mouth, just briefly between a lot lighter kisses.

Wade’s face is pressed against your shoulder, and he takes the opportunity to bite down on your clothed shoulder. You gasp with pain and pleasure into Logan’s mouth, who takes the opportunity to press his tongue in deeper, which you take greedily.

You break the kiss, but only so you can retaliate against Wade, biting him with a lot sharper teeth, sharp enough that you rip through fabric and pierce skin, tasting that familiar copper tang on your tongue. Logan still has his grip on your hair, though it is lighter now.

“Jesus fuck I swear on myself like Marvel Jesus, I liked that shirt!” You hear Logan snort, making you look up at him

“Too bad.” You hum, letting your hands transform just enough that you have claws, giving you an easy way to slit the t-shirt into pieces, keeping eye contact with Logan as you do so. Your claws leave light red marks in your wake, not much worse than someone with long nails scratching, but they are gone in seconds, just as you realize the bite on his shoulder is already gone as well. 

So he has super healing too, info you file away for later to maybe test out some more. Perk, you can go hard. Con, no marks to look at and adore later.

“If the two of you plan on fucking each other through me I am so down, but I must point out my mouth is horribly unoccupied at the moment.” He’s right, which you can’t have, so you push at Logan’s thigh, making him back off. Logan does so, but doesn’t go far, only enough so you can swing your legs over the side of the couch, plating them on the floor as you manhandle Wade down to kneel between them. 

Your cock is aching in your sweatpants, pre-come making a little wet spot on the grey fabric, which Wade hones in on. His hands are on your thighs, all of him leaning forward, but pausing as black clad thighs sit down next to you, an arm thrown over the back of the couch, hand brushing against your shoulder.

“Your choice with how you wanna occupy that pretty little mouth of yours Wade.” You press your thumb to his bottom lip, he opens his mouth so suck on your thumb for a few seconds, eyes darting between your own and Logan’s.

“This mouth is not pretty or little, it’s huge and filthy, don’t either of you forget it.” Thumb out of his mouth, he dips down and forward to mouth at your cock through the soft material of your pants.

“Wolvie over there can wait, he has already gotten to almost sorta fuck me in a Honda Oddesy.” You look at Logan, who grimaces.

“It was a fight.”

“The most homoerotic thing I’ve ever been a part of that wasn't just straight bone on bone.”

“I stabbed you.” Interesting.

“Not mutually exclusive honey badger.”

“Multiple times.” Very interesting.

“Still-” Rolling your eyes, you quickly end what is turning out to be unnecessary bickering by pressing Wade’s face down into your crotch with a heavy hand on the back of his head.

“Okay yeah, message received!” His words are muffled against your dick, but his thumbs up is clear. And it feels good, which is all you care about for the moment. Speaking of, you look to the side, catching Logan staring. He leans in to kiss you, which you gladly let him, breathing in the scent of the two of them around you.

All you can smell is sex, arousal, and excitement, what is coming stronger off whom is impossible to decipher.

Wade’s hands on your thighs move up to your waistband as his mouth keeps dancing over your still clothed cock, sucking it through the by now soaking material. You groan and moan, each noise swallowed greedily by Logan.

Wade fingers curl, starting to pull your sweats down, he momentarily stops as the fabric bunches up because he can’t move it further, but you are quick to lift up your hips just enough so he can pull it the rest of the way off. Somehow you manage to not break your kiss with Logan, which means he feels the pleased rumble you let out against his lips as Wade’s hand circles your cock.

“Not gonna lie, your cock is great, perfect size honestly, but I was expecting the carpet to match the drapes so to speak.” You and Logan both break the kiss, looking down at Wade, who’s slowly moving his hand up and down your cock, making it hard to dechiper what the fuck he means.

“Wade, what the fuck are you on about?” Logan grumbles out, a hand falling down on your thigh, squeezing without seeming to be conscious of the action. Wade looks at him, raising one hand up towards Logan.

“One: saw his full form." Middle finger up. "2: his partial transforming of his hands." Pointer finger up. "3: Why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to transform just this?” Ring finger comes up as he squeezes your cock, making your hips twitch up and cock leak pre-come.

“Oh for fucks sake you moron.” Logan scowls at him, hand squeezing your thigh again as Wade strokes over your cock, slowly. Something about the bickering like this is oddly familiar, but also very hot.

“Don’t bully me, I’ll cum.” Wade jokes right back at Logan’s words. You pluck his hand off your cock, even as much as you don’t want to.  “Hey, hey, I am not complaining enough for you to do that!” He tries to get his hands back on you, but you hold his wrists so he can’t move as you concentrate.

The transformation isn’t as smooth and effortless as your other ones, needing some concentration and muscles flexed in effort. Slowly your cock transforms, growing longer, thicker, tapered with a bulge towards the bottom, just above your balls.

Wade wolf whistles, Logan stares in stunned silence.

“Ohhhh, who made you realize you could do this?

“If you think you’re the first person that asked this question I’ve met Wade, sorry to disappoint.” 

“Oh no no no, no disappointment here, just utter delight that whoever they were helped you on your way to realize your full freak potential.” You snort letting go of his hands, which immediately goes to your cock. You throw your head back, your own hands finding their spot on the back of his head, not pushing, but clearly sending a message of where you want this to go eventually. 

Logan’s hand on your thigh squeezes down again, and you hear and feel him shift on the couch, leaning forward so he can smell over your throat.

“You smell like a fucking three course meal, and fucking look like it too.” He growls against your skin, and you feel sharp canines brushing against your pulse. Your dick pulses, leaking more pre-come, which is suddenly cleaned away by Wade’s warm tongue. You moan, one hand moving from Wade’s head to Logan’s, pressing him against your neck as you tilt your head.

He takes the invitation, pressing sharp teeth into your throat and biting down as Wade starts to sink his mouth down around your cock. Logan bite is not hard enough to draw blood, but you can tell he wants to with the way he keeps biting over the same spot over and over again, skin healing rapidly beneath his teeth.

You lick your lips, trying to find your words, but it’s hard with Wade’s mouth on your cock, and Logan’s mouth on your neck and his hands on your thigh and in your hair.

But you manage to find them, by the grace of whatever deity you believe in.

“Logan, I was shot today, I think I can manage your teeth.” You growl out, which Logan answers with a growl of his own. You feel Wade moan around your cock, his tongue working over your shaft as his mouth slides up and down your cock, as Logan finally bites down hard enough to draw blood. 

It stings, but it feels so goddamn good, especially as he doesn’t let up, not giving your sking a chance to heal, making the blood run down the side of your neck. 

Without thinking your hips chant up, chasing that pleasure you can feel cursing through your veins. Wade choking on your cock is expected, as he does you feel your cock twitch, even as he pulls off you to catch his breath. His hands don't leave you though.

“Fuck, give a guy some warning.”

“Wade, less talking.” Logan has only let go of your neck to speak in a low voice that is all grumble and no finesse.

“Yeah yeah, just a quick question, does your healing work on refractory periods?” 

“Yes.” You and Logan answer in unison, staring at each other for a few seconds before your focus is back on Wade, a wide smile taking up most of his face.

“Oh I fucking love my life, and fanfiction. I am going to make you come in my mouth first, then I am going to ride this freaky dick into the sunset. Or sunrise, cause I can go alllll night.” You roll your eyes. But, you like the sound of that plan, arousal stirring in your guts at his words. You need things to move along.

“I got lube in the bedroom, bottom drawer on the right nightstand.” 

“Damn, the one place I didn’t have time to snoop. Come on peanut, go get it, and then help me open up for this massive thing.” You expect some sort of protest from Logan, but he gets up, only pausing to steal a kiss and whisper in your ear. 

“I want to watch him ride you, to both of you break.” His dick is temptingly close to your face as he gets up, just a little lean forward and down, but you don’t move an inch, mouth dry and speech having left your for a few seconds as you watch him the whole walk to your bedroom, that fantastic ass on display even in black sweatpants.

“Deadpool fucking Wade, that man.” You look down at him. “What, I am Marvel Jesus, only fitting I take my own name in vain.” God he is on some nonsense, you mind less now though he kneels in front of you, shirtless, hard as a rock in his pants, a mix of pre-come and spit shining on his lips. 

Once more you push your thumb into his mouth, though this time the rest of your fingers rest under his chin, giving you a grip to guide him towards your cock.

“You talk too much.” He doesn’t protest at all, taking your cock into his mouth so easily and willingly, sucking on the tip before sinking down further, hands covering what his mouth and tongue can’t or don’t.

You hear Logan come back just a few short moments later, as he kneels behind Wade, who you feel wiggle as good as he can while keeping his mouth’s rhythm on your cock. The uncapping of the lube bottle makes you open your eyes. You hadn’t even realized you had closed them.

Logan is fully nude now, Wade matching seconds later as his pants are pulled off by Logan. You tug your own shirt off, throwing it to the side, not caring where it lands.

You watch as Logan sinks the tip of one finger inside Wade. Wade reaches back, pushing Logan’s hand against him, making him sink deeper.

“More.” It’s barely audible around your cock, but it gets the message across, making Logan push his finger all the way to the knuckle. Wade moans around your cock at the feeling, which in turn makes you moan as pleasure shoots up your spine.

Logan pulls his finger out of Wade, but before he can protest, there’s two thick digits shoved inside of him. Wade’s hands are gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise, but you know with your healing they will never appear, which is a shame, because you think to have Wade’s handprints on you would be hot.

Two fingers soon turn into three, and it takes some damn self control on your part to not come in Wade’s mouth as he groans around you because of the added stretch. 

He takes his mouth off your cock, licking over your shaft and balls before spitting in his hand, looking over his shoulder at Logan.

“I want you to fuck me first, spread me open for him.” Logan groans as Wade looks up at you, hand pumping fast over your cock. “And you are going to come in my mouth, then I’m riding you even if the fucking couch breaks and the stuffing is spilling out.”  You voice your agreement with this arrangement by leaning down and pulling him into a quick and messy kiss. 

“You better hurry up, or else I’m just going to spill all over your hand.” Your voice is deep, more grumble than words, but Wade takes those words to heart, mouth sinking down and around your cock once more.

Behind him, Logan sinks into him, slowly filling him up. You can tell he’s sunk to the hilt when Wade stops, a shuddering breath coming out of his nose.

The pause isn’t long, hands and mouth on your cock working hard on you to make you spill on his tongue. One hand goes down to fondle your balls, for a moment dipping lower, teasing, before going back up.

Logan starts slow, but Wade isn’t having it, reaching back like earlier, pawing at his ass, clearly wanting more. 

Which Logan gladly gives, the wet slaps of him fucking into Wade filling the room alongside the noises of Wade sucking your cock like a champion. 

One of your hands is gripping the couch so hard it’s a miracle the fabric hasn’t ripped, the other is pressing down on Wade’s head. 

Not that it’s needed, he’s sucking on you like a man starved, or a man on a mission. A mission to taste you, to make you cum before he does.

Which is nearly thwarted as Logan gets his hand on Wade’s cock, if the full body shudder is anything to go by.

But, by some miracle, you come first, exploding over Wade's tongue with just a shout of his name as warning. He almost chokes, but drinks you down, making sure to get every drop of you. He lets your cock fall out of his mouth to lick up what has spilled from his mouth, almost teasing if it wasn’t for how desperate his movements are. 

Your cock stays hard, through just minimal effort from you, though you hardly pay it any mind with how Wade moans against your warm skin.

Logan is giving him as good as Wade gave you. Wade's mouth dance over your thighs before biting down as he cums, spilling come over Logan’s hand, and blood over his teeth and your thigh.

Logan is not far behind. Three pumps is all it takes for him to spill inside Wade, and you swear you see his claws peeking out from between his knuckles. Seconds later they are gone, Logan panting hard against Wade before pulling out. He’s still hard, which makes your mouth water and an idea forms in your head.

Before you can act on it though, you find yourself being manhandled onto your back, seconds later Wade is straddling you, hips spread wide. He grabs your cock, guiding it in, slowly starting to sink down. His cock is still hard or perhaps hard again, you don’t know or care to differentiate the two. You go grab it, but he bats your hand away. 

All it does is shift your attention to Logan, who is still kneeling on the floor, cock hard between his legs as he watches the two of you with rapt attention. 

The idea from earlier springs forth in your minds. You need your mouth on that cock. 

Right now.

You make what can only be described as a grabby motion at him, too focused on not coming again already, you cock inside Wade’s warm and wet hole making it difficult to be able to form proper words.

It does get the message across though, as soon enough you have Logan straddling your chest, your hands grabbing his ass as you guide his hips towards your face. He chuckles, which goes straight to your dick which makes it twitch inside Wade, who in turn moans.

He rests his tip on your lips, and you open your mouth, ready to feel the weight and taste of him on your tongue and in your mouth.

You suspect he was going to try to keep back, to deny himself and you just for a few moments longer, but it’s squashed as Wade also squeezes Logan’s ass, laughing at the grumble it gets him. 

“Come on, you know you want to, it's rude to keep a guy hanging.” For once you are glad Wade is able to quickly find his words, because yours is lost somewhere in the back of your throat where you wish for Logan’s cock to be.

He pushes his cock into your mouth, and you groan at the just perfect feeling of him on your tongue. You also shift your feet so you can meet Wade’s bounces, earning you a breathless laughter.

God, they feel so fucking good. Wade is bouncing on your cock like he was made for it, Logan fucking into your mouth slowly, clearly not wanting to choke you. 

But you want him to.

Not that you really can, having almost no gag reflex.

Which Logan seems to realize as you take him with no effort over and over and over again, your mouth and throat open for him.

He speeds up, abandoning his slow pace, matching Wade’s instead.

You start to rumble, deeper than either of them have heard from you before, making them stop in their tracks. 

"Fucking hell, you're like a god damn vibrator!" Wade laughs, an appreciative sigh coming out his mouth as he lazily grinds himself down on your cock. Logan lets out a low fuck, digging one hand into your hair, the other into the back of the couch, and you definitely see a quick glint of the tips of his claws again.

You’re not having this stopping, pulling at Logan, transformed claws digging into his ass as you encourage him to keep fucking into your drooling mouth, and pump your hips up into Wade. They groan in sync, starting to move again, and you feel your second orgasm rolling up on you.

All it takes is one tug off your hair from Logan and a squeeze from Wade’s hole to your to spill over the edge. 

The continued vibrations in your throat as you growl while cumming send Logan over the edge, spilling all over your tongue, making you swallow it all down greedily. Wade is just a second behind, the feeling of you spilling into him being enough, making him sit down fully on your cock, milking you for every last drop as he spills over Logan’s back and ass, some of it dripping down onto your stomach.

It takes a while for you to come down, to get your senses back enough to let go of Logan’s ass, letting him pull out of your mouth. You both gasp for air, seconds later he is down and on his back on the floor, catching his breath. Wade is in a similar state pulling off you, out of breath, but he plops down on top of you instead. 

You feel him leak down on your thighs, and there’s Logan’s cum on your chin where some escaped your mouth , and given a 15 minute rest, you could go again.

You don’t push for it though.

A few minutes go by, and you realize it’s the longest you’ve gone without hearing a word from Wade without anyone else talking. You lift your head, looking where he has his head on your chest. You raise two fingers against his neck, but it’s batted away, albeit weakly.

“Five more minutes.” He sounds half asleep, which he probably actually is.

“Were you going to check for a pulse?” Logan says from the floor, humor evident in his voice.

“Haven’t heard silence in so long, needed to check if everything is alright.”

“You are so mean to me.” Wade’s eyes are closed and his voice is flat, but you can feel the smile stretching his lips against your warm skin. “Mind blowing sex will do that to a man, even one as strong as me. You are both invited to fuck me unconscious again.”

“Aaannndd it’s gone.” You roll your eyes as it seems Wade is slowly rebooting, at least his mouth is, the rest of his body is limp and heavy on top of your own. “Come on, up you go.” You push at his shoulder, and he whines, actually whines, which shouldn’t go to your dick, but it does.

You ignore it with a sigh, maneuvering him enough that you can stand up on your own, leaving him on the couch, before leaning down to throw him over your shoulder like a rag doll.

“Hot.” He mumbles and you snort, turning towards Logan who is now at least sitting up on the floor. His hair is a mess, tufts long gone, disheveled locks only being pushed into somewhat of an order as he drags a hand through his hair.

“I would offer to carry you too, but I know my limits.” Logan snorts, reaching a hand out, which you take, helping him up from the floor. “I suggest we all cuddle up in bed, have a nap, then figure out something to eat.” Logan reaches for the remote, turning your TV off.

“Or we could go round three. Just give me an hour. Or two. You guys fucked me up real good.” You both roll your eyes at Wade’s words, heading to the bedroom. Logan grabs three water bottles on the way, closing the door behind you as you put Wade down on your bed. You grab your disregarded t-shirt from earlier to wipe Wade down, using a little bit of spit to loosen up the dried blood on his shoulder. He lets you without much of any noise, you would think he was already asleep if it wasn’t for the fact that barely open eyes watch you as you do so.

Logan gives Wade a water bottle, cap already off, offering you an unopened one.

“No princess treatment for me?” You jokingly ask, finished with cleaning Wade off for now, still holding onto the shirt you used to clean him with.

“You can still walk.” You chuckle before chugging half of the water bottle in one go.

“Smug fucks.” Wade mumbles, watching your throat as you chug.

“Here, let me.” Logan grabs the t-shirt from your hand, wiping away Wade’s cum from your stomach, your blood from your neck, and his and yours mixed release from your thighs. “All clean.” He spots the little spot on your chin. “Except riiiighhtt…” He licks his come away. “There.” Wade groans from the bed, making the both of you look at him,

“Still fucking hot. Scratch what I said earlier, 30 minutes and I will be rearing to go, you too hot for anyones good motherfuckers."

“Oh shut the fuck up Wade.” You say in unison. You put your water bottles to the side, Logan throwing your now very stained t-shirt into a corner as you both get on the bed with Wade. You curl up behind him, Logan against his front as he pulls the duvet up over the three of you.

Sleepy and comfy silence fills the room, only broken by a couple of yawns.

It lasts for about a minute.

“Chat, does this make me a furry?” 

“Don’t make me fucking gut you Wade.” You growl, letting your nails just grow the tiniest amount so they poke into the flesh of his stomach from where you have your arm thrown over his waist.

“Ohhh, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“God, you are so fucking strange.”

“Say you, you nasty dog.” Wade pushes his ass back against your crotch, where your cock is still sensitive, though transformed back into your normal form. You and Logan growl in unison, stilling any movement Wade tries with solid hands on him.

“Shut the fuck up, and go to sleep Wade.” Logan mutters against his forehead.

“Alright, alright Wolfie and Wolvie, but you both run hot, so if I wake up in the middle of the night because I died of overheating, it’s your fault.” You scoff, nose buried against the back of his neck, the texture and sweet smell of him by now familiar, lulling you into sleep. 

It also helps that he smells of you and Logan.

[selineram3421]

Petit Lapin Blanc

Part 4

Part 3

Alastor and Human Child Reader

:Platonic:

Warning! ⚠

⚠ nodding head = yes, ✨magic✨, all caps for excitement, headache, implied amnesia, mention of medicine, repeated word "Hop". ⚠

You sat on a big stool, watching the winged cat man shuffle the cards in his claws on the counter.

"Ok kid, ready for some magic?", the cat man asks.

Quickly nodding your head, you hold your stuffed toy tightly and focus on the cards.

He spreads the cards out like a fan and asks you to pick one. After pulling out a card, he tells you to memorize it and to not show him, just to remember the card before putting it back.

Three of Hearts, Three of Hearts! You think again and again.

"Ok, I'm gonna shuffle the cards again and find your card.", the cat man says, doing very cool and fancy card shuffles.

"Wow!", you say in awe.

The white haired girl was named Vaggie, she told you to watch the cat man (Husk) do card magic while she talked about boring grown up stuff with Alastor.

They weren't far but you didn't pay that much attention to what they were saying.

Because magic.

"Ok..", the cat man picks up a card and flips it face up on the counter. "Is this your card?"

Looking at the card, you frown. It was NOT your card.

"No."

"Aw man, I thought I got it.", the cat man grumbles and flips over another card. "How 'bout this one?"

It still wasn't your card.

"No."

Flip. Nope. Flip. Nope. Flip. Nope. Flip. Nope.

It kept going until all the cards were turned over, and not a single one was your card.

"Where did it go?", the cat man asks and scratches his head confused.

You pout and hide your frown with your white rabbit doll.

"I know!", he grins and reaches over. "Let me check behind your ear."

"Its not there.", you say.

There's a flick behind your ear and you see the card, your card. The Three of Hearts.

"Tada~", the cat man says.

"HOW DID IT GET THERE!?", you shout in surprise.

Alastor walked over and pat your head.

"How did what get where little one?"

"The cat man-!", you looked up and pointed at the cat person who cut in to remind you of his name.

"Husk."

"Husk! Pulled out my card from behind my ear!", you said. "I didn't put it there!"

"Hmm. Interesting indeed.", the man in red said and tapped a finger on his chin. "Maybe it was magic? Vagatha did say that Husker does do card magic."

"Woooah.", you say and look back to the cat man. "Can we do another one?"

"Sure kid.", Husk says and starts shuffling the cards again.

Then you heard a bell ring.

.

You woke up on a couch.

Sitting up, you found a lot of napkins covering you like a blanket. Looking around, you were confused when finding yourself in a waiting room and tried to remember.

Then your head started to hurt.

"Ow!", you cried out and rubbed your forehead.

It really hurt and you wanted medicine.

When getting off of the couch, something caught your eye. It was a stuffed rabbit toy with a bow tied around its neck, making them look fancy.

"You're coming with me."

Now with your new friend, you walked over to a door and opened it. Looking out, you saw it lead to a hallway and decided to explore.

Another door lead to a room with a lot of buttons. Then another with weird looking couches, and another to a bunch of boring file cabinets.

Opening the last door at the end of the hallway, you saw that it was an elevator.

"Ooo.", you said walking in and looked at the buttons. "Hmm.", you hummed in thought, squinting at the numbers.

Then you slid your hand to press all of the buttons.

"Yay."

It was really fun going to all the floors, but then you got bored and pressed the number one to go on the ground level.

Stepping out of the elevator, you saw someone sleeping at the main desk holding a phone.

They are sleeping, so I'll leave quietly so they don't wake up. You thought and made your way outside.

Walking. That's what you did until you were somewhere different. You don't know how, but you were suddenly watching T.V.

A white rabbit was hopping on the black screens.

Hop hop hop.

Hop hop hop.

Hop hop hop.

Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop.

Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop.

Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop.

Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop. Hop hop hop-

"Excuse me little one!"

Looking over, you see a red man.

He was kneeling down on one knee. "Could you tell me how you got here?", he asked, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Kinda had a crap day so this gets a pass. I needed to write something to get my mind off of it.

~Seline, the person.

Part 5

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @stolas-thebirb @c4rved-pumpk1n @naelys-the-aster @scary-noodlesblog @kiraisastay @i-3at-kidz @+?

🐇ChL | ML for Alastor🎙

[theragethatisdesire]

dall'inizio - eren x reader, 18+!!!!

welcome back to the ti penso universe everyone!!!! this is a continuation/prequel of the little series we've followed from my first eren x reader fic. i was really interested to see how they met and ....unsurprisingly, it's a one night stand that doesn't turn out as planned. this one is also super fun because we get to hear from both eren AND reader alternatively, plus reader is a confident, bad bitch and we love that for her. this one goes out to @philliam-writes bc ik you love this eren as much as i do!!!!!! here's ur part 3 bestie >:)

if you'd like to catch up and meet our eren x reader, find them here:

(1) ti penso ogni giorno

(2) nel bene e nel male

pairing: eren x afab reader

wc: 6.7k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut (duh), consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol/drug use (just weed nothing crazy), cussing, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a lovestruck idiot (and so are you if you're being honest)

title (as always) means "from the beginning" in italian i'm obsessed with them <3

-

“You look like a whore,” Ymir says bluntly, dragging her eyes over your outfit– or, lack thereof.

“It’s not that bad,” you wave her off, turning back to the mirror to tug at the hem of your little black slip. You do look like a whore, but it’s intentional. You haven’t gotten laid in three months– your friends have been calling you dramatic, but that’s a lot, okay? You’re in college, you’re supposed to sleep around, right?

On top of that, your last few situationships just haven’t quite…well, they weren’t bad, but they didn’t scratch the itch. You desperately need a fuck– not just a fuck, a good fuck, and you have a feeling tonight’s going to be the night. It’s Halloween, the international holiday for running around in basically zero clothes, and you’ve taken great care to adhere to that tradition.

“Are you a mouse?” Historia wrinkles her nose at you from her spot at the vanity in the corner. She’s in a dalmatian costume; cute, spotted ears sticking up from her blonde hair, blue collar tinkling when she cocks her head at you.

“I’m a fucking cat,” you mutter, drawing a black triangle of eyeliner on the tip of your nose, “I didn’t have time for a real costume.”

“She just wants to get laid,” Mikasa announces, pushing through the studio apartment door with a huff, arms laden with plastic bags that are making a tell-tale clinking sound, “it’s been like, two whole weeks.”

“Three months!” You correct her, defensive.

“I understand,” Ymir, appropriately dressed as Cruella de Vil, grins, “it’s been…what, Stor? Two hours?”

“Ymir!” Historia, scandalized, flushes a furious red. Both you and Mikasa are unphased; in the last four months they’ve been together, the three feet they’re sitting from one another now is the farthest apart you’ve seen them.

“I’m not a whore,” you turn around, hands on hips, “I just…it’s been awhile since I had good sex. Floch was–”

“The worst?” Mikasa finishes for you. You hate how well she knows you; even after less than two years of knowing each other, she can practically read your mind.

“Yeah, you may have mentioned that once or twice,” Historia turns back to the mirror, immediately disinterested. “Or a thousand times.”

You throw your hands up, turning back to the mirror to finish your whiskers. “So none of you can blame me.”

“While you two,” Mikasa points between Ymir and Historia accusingly, “have been screwing like rabbits, and you,” her black-painted fingernail finds its way to you, “have been trying to figure out how to sleep with half of Manhattan, I took the liberty of actually making plans for us.”

“Jean’s?” You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, grateful to put someone else in the hot seat for the night. Mikasa’s cheeks tinge pink. Busted.

“He’s throwing a party, yeah,” she answers slowly, trying to talk her way around her obvious attraction to him, “but it’s not those douchebags he usually hangs out with. My best friend from home, Eren, just got into town, and,” she looks at you pointedly, “some of his friends are actually cute.”

You’re unconvinced. “Pictures?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Mikasa bites her lip mischievously, “but if you take a few tequila shots with me, I might be persuaded to show you one or two.”

You’re dubious. Mikasa’s definitely shown you a photo of these guys before, and you don’t remember a standout in the lineup. This Eren character, however…Mikasa has a framed picture on her bedside nightstand of them in high school, and you remember him being sort of cute. Dark, short-cropped hair, big green eyes so wide and earnest that he almost reminded you of a movie character. That picture was three or four years old now so…who knows? Maybe he’d grown into his features.

“Eren’s a no-go, though,” Mikasa continues, knowing your exact train of thought of course, pouring out shots of lukewarm, cheap tequila. Your stomach gurgles in protest at the smell as you accept yours. “He’s a nightmare to women, trust me.”

“Who knows,” Ymir pipes up, nodding her head towards you, “she’s a nightmare to men, so.”

“I am not a nightmare,” you narrow your eyes, “I just don’t like to be tied down, that’s all.”

“You’ll have to be at some point,” Historia argues, smiling when Ymir slips a hand into hers. You wrinkle your nose, uninterested.

“It’s 2018, Stor, not very feminist of you,” you tut, throwing back your shot and practically choking it down. Ick.

“I’m a lesbian, how much more feminist can I get?”

“Touché.”

“Just promise me you won’t get wrapped up with him?” Mikasa eyes you, still not trusting the glint of curiosity in your eye.

Ymir crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you positive you like Jean and not this Eren dude?”

Mikasa makes a fake retching sound. “Eren’s practically my brother. I’ve seen his bare ass more times than I can count. Way past the attraction threshold, trust me. I just…I know him. And I know you,” she glares at you, “it’s a toss-up as to who would do more damage to the other.”

“I’ll behave,” you placate her, throwing your arms around her shoulders, “…maybe.”

-

Eren might puke. No, wait, he’s going to puke– oh, no, just an unbelievably loud burp. Eren smiles contentedly, feeling much better even as it stinks up the entire taxi. Connie leans over Armin, scrunches his nose and squints his eyes.

“That fucking reeks, dude!”

“Sorry,” Eren shrugs, turning his head back to the window and ignoring Armin and Connie’s complaints. They were all a few beers deep- what did they expect? 

Eren’s lived a few hours outside of New York City all his life, but he’s never been, except maybe once or twice for field trips as a kid. He never remembered it looking like this, though: each little apartment twinkled like a star, giving the wall of skyscrapers the appearance of the night sky. Even as the cab screeches and jerks in the Lower West Side traffic, Eren feels like he’s in a spaceship, free and flying amongst the stars. 

Maybe he could talk to Zeke, convince him to move their little operation out of their garage and into the city. There was money here, right? And plenty of musicians who weren’t quite good enough to get signed by any major labels…

“Mikasa says she and her friends will be over in five,” Armin squints at his phone screen, holding it far away from him like an old man to type a response. Eren nearly rolls his eyes.

“Would you just get some fucking glasses already?”

“Annie said they made me look nerdy,” Armin shrugs. Connie groans.

“You two broke up like, a year ago–”

“Six months,” Armin corrects him, eyes growing sadder by the second.

“Okay, six months, whatever, we’ve got to get you laid tonight, dude.”

Eren lets the two slip into an argument about the “appropriate amount of time” to wait to sleep with someone after a breakup, much preferring his unusually contemplative mood to Connie and Armin’s bickering after their four-hour train ride together. He smiled to himself; God, it would be good to see Mikasa again. He wouldn’t have admitted it at gunpoint, but she was practically his mom growing up, and she’d been gone for over a year, only visiting for Christmas. Rumor had it that she’d been spending a lot of time with Jean as of late, so he needed to see what that was all about, too.

And who had Eren been spending a lot of time with lately? No one but bar rats and slim pickings from the frat parties at Trost University near his hometown. When was the last time he’d even gotten laid? A month? Two? Her name had been Jenna…no, Jenny? Josephina? Fuck, he should remember that. Eren needs to get laid, regardless, but if he dares to step near any of Mikasa’s friends, she’ll kill him, he knows that from experience. Then again, maybe this weird-ass Jean situation would come in handy. If Mikasa ends up distracted…

“Excuse me!” Armin disturbs his thoughts once again; Eren scowls. “Excuse me, sir? I think we’re here.”

Eren pays for the cab. Armin had bought the train tickets and the chain-gang costumes they were all currently sporting, and Connie was always flat broke, insisting his music career would work out soon. That could be Eren’s fault, though: Connie was one of his and Zeke’s first “clients”. None of them even bothered keeping up with the money exchanged between each other anymore; Connie had been in their kindergarten class, Armin’s mom had changed all of their diapers, Mikasa’s parents were the “cool parents” that let them smoke weed in the backyard, Jean’s mom made the best potato salad. They were a little family, separated by life and college at the moment, but a family all the same. Eren felt a little tingle of appreciation in his stomach as they climbed the stairs to Jean’s walk-up.

“Jaeger!” Jean was dapping him up and smacking a fist against his back before Eren could even properly look around the dark apartment.

“Kirstein,” Eren returns his embrace and has to shout over the music, suddenly smacked with a wave of homesickness at the familiar smell of weed and Jean’s tacky Hugo Boss cologne.

“Make yourself at home, dude,” Jean’s nearly inaudible over the thumping house music. He’s got some stupid mummy costume on that exposes his lean stomach, basically just shirtless and wrapped in toilet paper. Eren stifles a laugh, looking around the apartment for any other familiar faces.

Reiner approaches him next, a goofy, drunken grin splitting his face wide open, tackling Eren in a bear hug. Most of the greetings go like that; I miss you! How are you? How’s the business? Are you still in Shiganshina? It makes Eren’s chest tight, makes him miss the closeness of the people he loves. He was just always fucking working, helping Zeke with paperwork, running around town talking to clients, pulling at his face late at night looking over the finances of everything. He feels wound up, ready to burst, but the blunt and beer Bertholdt just handed him should fix that, at least somewhat. He needs…fuck, he needs to get laid.

His eyes search the room, looking for the one person he’s looking most forward to seeing, but he doesn’t find Mikasa where he expects.

She’s perched on Jean’s lap, giggling over her drink as Jean waves his arms wildly, telling her a story. That bizarre sight only holds Eren’s gaze for a moment, though, because there you are beside her, grinning wickedly with one of those stupid vapes between your teeth.

Eren stops dead in his tracks, speechless. Where do they even make women like that? He goes bottom to top, letting himself be impressed with how well you’re balancing on those high heels, ravishing every naked inch of your exposed legs until he reaches the hem of– fuck, is that just lingerie? Whatever little black thing you’re wearing, it makes his heart race, makes his pants tight. It’s low-cut in the chest enough to tease, a little collar around your neck, and your face…even your face makes him hard, so beautiful in the low lighting, eyes glimmering. You look evil and fun and sexy all at once, and Eren’s sold within the first ten seconds of seeing you.

Before he can make a beeline in your direction, he realizes he’s taken his gaze off of Mikasa and Jean long enough for them to approach him, Mikasa throwing her arms around his neck.

“Eren!” She squeals in his ear, clearly already drunk. Eren chuckles, trying to rein himself in enough to hold a stable conversation. The little black dress flashes behind his eyes as he smiles down at Mikasa.

“Hey Mika,” he ruffles her hair, making Mikasa grumble and reach towards her head to right what he’s ruined. His eyes wander back to you; you’re watching him too, sizing him up. He wonders if you like what you see, pulls at the zipper of his orange jumpsuit to inch it down, reveal some of his stomach. Eren’s not conceited per se, but he spends an unhealthy amount of time in the gym, and he knows it shows. As your gaze travels down to where he holds his zipper, Eren can’t look away, knows it must be obvious that he’s distracted.

“Bro,” Jean snaps his fingers in front of Eren’s eyes, looking over his shoulder to see what Eren’s staring at. He turns back with a smirk. “Yeah?”

Fuck, now Mikasa’s looking off in the same direction, returning her eyes to him with a scowl. Drunk or not, she never fails to scare the shit out of him. “No. No fucking way, Eren.”

“What?” Eren sips his beer innocently, shrugging. He was only staring…for now.

“She’s my best friend, Eren, no,” Mikasa says, firmer this time.

“Thought I was your best friend?”

“Didn’t she just break things off with Floch like…” Jean trails off at the withering glare Mikasa shoots him, turning red.

“She’s off-limits.” Eren nods, her words going in one ear and out the other. Mikasa’s scolded him before, and she won’t stop anytime soon, so what’s one more? She can read his mind, evidently, because she reaches up and pinches his cheek, yanking him down to her level.

“Ow!”

“Off. Fucking. Limits.” Mikasa seethes. “Do you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah I- fuck, let go! I hear you Mika,” Eren rubs his sore cheek, frowning. He can see you laughing at him, eyes barely visible over the edge of your drink. Great, Eren thinks; getting a talking-to from Mikasa like a child was not the first impression he wanted to give you.

Mikasa’s grabbing Jean’s hand and pulling him back towards the crowd, presumably to play guard dog for you, but before she can get him too far, Jean leans back towards Eren, cups a hand around his mouth.

“She’s single, bro,” Jean manages to get out before Mikasa pulls harder, “go for it!”

Eren grins. If Mikasa wanted to bite his head off for this, now he could blame it on Jean. What the hell was he supposed to say to you, though? You’re leagues above the girls he’s been pursuing. If Eren’s honest with himself, he’s intimidated by you, but his only solution is to throw some more of his beer back for liquid courage. He’s always loved a challenge.

When he pulls the cup away from his face, you’ve appeared in front of him, smiling demurely and nearly making him jump out of his skin.

“Hi.” 

-

The second you saw him, you were hooked. He was gorgeous, dark hair pulled into a little half-bun on the back of his head, pretty eyes, and tall and broad to boot. He was almost stern-looking, dark eyebrows shielding his eyes. Dark and mean, just the way you like them.

Mikasa had given him a massive hug, interrupting the clear eye-fucking you were engaged in across the room; so that was Eren? Her long-lost best friend that was always too busy to visit? The happy kid from the picture? You watched her scold him, giggling to yourself at how childlike he became, crumbling under Mikasa’s pinch and pouting when she let him go.

You had no choice, really. Your promise to Mikasa had flown out of your mind the moment you saw those full lips pursed around the blunt, blowing out a puff of smoke, stretching into a wide, dangerous smile. You’re an only child and admittedly, a bit spoiled, so when you want something, you get it.

“Hi,” you can’t manage anything more clever, not face to face with his bare chest. Jean’s apartment is stuffy, and you catch the gleam of sweat on his chest in the LED lighting. You lick your lips.

“Hi,” Eren responds stiffly, looking as surprised as if you’d just punched him in the gut.

“You’re Eren, right? Mikasa’s friend?”

Eren hits his blunt again, nods slowly. “I don’t think we’ve met though, you’re…?”

You give him your name. He smiles and repeats it, rolling it around on his tongue and getting a taste for it. You can already see little hearts in his eyes, it makes you grin to yourself. You had expected him to put up more of a fight; there’s a dozen girls in this room alone that would fall all over themselves to get him in bed, but he’s enraptured by you, eyes never leaving your face. You’ve got him. 

“A cat, huh?” Eren addresses the costume, dipping his head in the direction of the little black ears on your head. You’re suddenly embarrassed, feeling a bit silly.

“I, uh, didn’t really have time to shop,” you shrug, pulling at the hem of your dress. Eren’s mouth quirks up. “A prisoner?”

“Yeah, I didn’t get to pick. I like yours, though, it fits you.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “A cat fits me?”

“Yeah,” Eren says, growing surer by the second, “I don’t know. Just fits. S’cute.”

You’re embarrassed by the giddy flutter in your stomach. God, he’s delicious. “You think I’m cute?”

“I think lots of things about you,” Eren replies, voice low and sultry and hardly audible over the music. His eyes widen like he hadn’t exactly meant to say that out loud, but it’s too late now. You grin, all teeth and bad intentions.

“We just met,” you point out. Eren’s confidence has returned, he boldly brings a hand to the spaghetti strap of your dress. His fingers are hot– why do men always run so hot? His touch almost burns.

“You wore this,” he rubs the fabric between his fingers, “and expect me not to have a few thoughts on it? Wasn’t that the point?”

The breath leaves your lungs. Your confidence fizzles at the same rate as your arousal grows. There are plenty of hot guys here, but you might have jumped into the deep end with this one. Something flickers in his eyes, something hungry.

“Why don’t you tell me about these thoughts of yours?”

“I will,” Eren nods, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, “later.”

“Later?”

“We’re at a party,” Eren takes the empty cup from you, replacing it with his own, much larger hand, “shouldn’t we at least dance a little?”

Before you can argue, he’s pulling you out into the center of Jean’s obnoxiously spacious living room, into a jungle of sweaty, gyrating bodies. You’re close enough to the speakers now that the bass pounds through your body to the same rhythm as your heart thudding in your chest. The crowded, makeshift dance floor pushes you into Eren, skin against skin. You have a fleeting moment to be grateful that you’re likely now obscured from Mikasa’s view before a pair of strong hands around your hips prevent any more conscious thoughts from taking shape in your brain.

“One of my thoughts,” Eren’s right beside your ear now, voice echoing in your brain, “is that I like you. Like this body.”

“T-thank you,” you stammer out, wanting to facepalm at not only your stupidly simple response, but the weakness in your voice.

“Move it for me.”

You obey him, letting your body move with the music, trying not to get too caught up in whether or not you look ridiculous with how you’re pressing your body into his, arms thrown around his neck. Eren seems to like the way you move on him, pushing and pulling your hips in the rhythm you’ve set, looking down his nose at you with bloodshot eyes.

Your panties are growing wetter by the second; he’s intoxicating, the feel of him against you, firm and tacky with sweat. His hands are tracing up your sides, dragging slowly as if he’s memorizing the curves of your body. You haven’t known him long enough to want him the way that you do, humiliated by the carnal desire simmering in the pit of your stomach, but you’ve had enough tequila not to care. The whole thing is too similar to what you really want, and you make it through a solid seven or eight songs before you can’t take the stifling tension between the two of you any longer, thick enough to cut with a knife.

You lean up on the tips of your toes, wobbling in your heels, and grab him tight around the neck, pulling him to you. Your lips finally meet; Eren’s slow to respond as you’ve caught him off guard, but he catches on quickly, lips falling open so you can kiss him deeper. His lips are softer than you expect, supple and giving as they move with yours. You trace your tongue through his teeth, hardly suppressing a whine. He tastes good, like cheap beer and weed and lust. You drink him in, a satisfied hum buzzing in your chest.

Without warning, Eren practically rips you off of him. “Not here.”

He’s dragging you through the people around you, knocking them out of the way and not stopping to apologize when he gets offended looks. He pulls you into what you know to be Jean’s room, wastes no time in shoving you up against the door and blocking you in with his wide shoulders.

You swallow hard; you’ve underestimated him.

“Another one of my thoughts,” Eren mouths at the area beneath your ear, makes you groan, “is that you’re pretty. Like, very fucking pretty. Bet you’re twice as pretty under this dress.”

“I think you’re pretty, too,” you manage to say, forcing the words from your mouth. Eren chuckles, smiling against the shell of your ear.

“C’mere,” he tilts your chin up, kissing you again. It’s troublingly gentle, long and languid as your mouths move against one another. He kisses you like he loves you; the thought makes alarm bells ring in your head, and you nip at his bottom lip to break up the emotional momentum, sink your teeth into it. Eren pulls back, chuckling down at you. “You’re mean.”

“Only a little.”

“Is that what you like?” Eren thumbs at your mouth, slipping his finger between your lips. You suck greedily, rubbing your tongue against the roughness of his fingertip. “Like it a little mean? Between you and me, I like ‘em a little mean, too.”

You nod, gently biting on his thumb. Eren groans, a low rumble deep in his chest. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with you.”

He’s pulling your dress over your head before you can stop him, sucking in a sharp breath when he gets an eyeful of your lace-clad breasts, the tiny thong you’ve slipped over your hips. Stronger than you’d expected, Eren pulls you up to wrap your legs around his waist, slamming your back against the door with a loud thud and knocking your stupid cat ears to the floor. You can hear a few sounds of surprise from outside; surely that got a few people’s attention, but you’re lost in him, whimpering at the feel of his jumpsuit costume rubbing against your clothed center.

Eren’s sloppy, placing open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to suck a bruise underneath your ear. You gasp, canting your hips into his stomach, desperate for friction. You’re normally not so uninhibited, but Eren’s doing something to your head, has your mind spinning. He’s carrying you over to the bed, dropping you down onto Jean’s sheets. Eren leans down to pull your heels off, a sweet gesture if you could find the presence of mind to acknowledge it. You feel a flicker of guilt about doing this in Jean’s bed, but when Eren starts sliding a hand up your thigh, it flickers away into nothing, swallowed by your bottomless want. 

“Look at that,” Eren smirks, rubbing his fingers over your panties, “soaked. This all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine, hips jerking up towards his touch. It is for him, it was from the moment you laid eyes on him, and you both know it. His hands are everywhere: unclasping your bra, pulling your panties down, palming at your tits. You arch your back up to him, offering him your chest; he responds by closing down on one of your nipples with his teeth.

“So pretty,” Eren’s murmuring around the mouthful of your flesh he’s got, twisting the neglected nipple of your right breast between his fingers, “so pretty.”

“Eren,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, pulling it out of its bun and wrapping the hair band around your wrist. His mouth is hot, scalding, even, but you pull him closer to you anyway, pressing his face into your tits. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, letting you move him this way and that, show him what you like and how to pull those pretty moans out of your mouth. Before long, he’s kissing his way down your stomach, hands gripping your hips like a lifeline.

“Want a taste,” Eren sounds more like he’s talking to himself than to you, “need to taste this pussy.”

“Eren,” you reach for his hair, trying to pull him back up to you. While you’d love to see what the mouth that had just kissed you breathless could do between your legs, the thumping music outside is an annoying but consistent reminder that there’s an entire party outside and you’re in Jean’s bedroom. The clock’s ticking. “Want to feel you, we don’t have time for–”

“Don’t have time?” Something wicked lights Eren’s face up as he shimmies your panties down your legs. “Believe me, it won’t take long.”

“Eren,” your protest is feeble but earnest, and you make another attempt to reach for him when a long, thick lick up your center renders you near-unconscious. You moan, a little louder than you would have liked to.

“See? Gonna make you feel so good, trust me,” Eren’s punctuating each word with a little kiss somewhere on your pussy: your clit, your lips, right over your fluttering entrance. You have no choice but to whimper and nod, canting your hips up towards him. You look down, immediately regretting it: Eren’s wiggled out of his costume, naked and beautiful and staring up at you from between your legs. You’re hardly able to swallow the inhuman sound that threatens to rip from your throat.

Where he’d been cool and calculated pulling you onto the dance floor, you quickly learn that Eren eats pussy like he can’t control himself, like his life depends on it. His massive hands wrap around the tops of your thighs, securing you against his face as you try to squirm away. He licks into you enthusiastically, moaning against you at the taste, sending a succession of vibrations through you that go straight to the fire in your stomach.

When his lips close around your clit and suck hard, you have to slap a hand over your mouth to stop a wail from reaching the ears right outside the door. Eren takes the opportunity to sneak a finger into you, curl it right against that gummy spot in your walls that has you seeing stars. As he works his finger in your cunt, he kisses his way back up to your mouth, greeting you with a sloppy kiss.

“Feels good, right?” Eren’s face is literally dripping with you, a sharp-toothed grin barely visible in the dim light.

“Feels good,” you whimper, daring to look down to where he’s grinding his palm against your clit. You can see the veins of his muscular arm straining as he pumps in and out of you; it’s a lewd sight, one that makes your head spin. “‘S so much Eren, I— fuck.”

“Yeah?” Eren’s smile grows darker, another finger slips into you easily. You’re practically dripping onto the sheets at this point, rolling your hips against his hand with your mouth hanging open. It’s humiliating but too gratifying to stop. “Gonna cum for me? You can do it, give it to me.”

“God– close, so c-close,” you can barely find the words to respond, the pressure in your belly swelling at an alarming speed. You’re going to squirt, you know you are, should move off of Jean’s bed or warn Eren or do something, but it’s too late.

You thrash in Eren’s grip, cumming so hard you think you can taste blood where you bite your lip. You can feel the wetness spraying from you, soaking Eren’s hand and the sheets and your inner thighs, can distantly hear your pitiful cries, but you’re powerless to do anything about it until the mind-numbing orgasm’s run its course. Eventually you do settle, babbling incoherently into Eren’s shoulder about Jean’s ruined sheets, about how you’re sorry for making a mess. Eren shuts you up with his mouth on yours; you can hear the distant rip of a condom wrapper.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he laughs, rolling on top of you and lining himself up, “gonna have to keep you.”

Before you can even think to offer to return the favor or make a sarcastic remark about how you’d never let anyone keep you, Eren’s pressing into you, and your mind short-circuits. Shit, maybe you’d let him keep you.

You hadn’t gotten a good look at him in the darkness, but he’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had before, and big enough that you realize this when he’s not even halfway in.

“Eren…it’s so– s’big,” you hiccup into his shoulder, fingernails clawing into his biceps.

“Is it too much, baby?” You hate pet names, hate them, but from the greek god splitting you open right now, you love it, want to lick the word right out of his mouth and taste it on your own tongue. The genuine concern glittering in his eyes, the little furrow between his brows as he pauses, frowns down at you, fuck, you might be in love.

“No, not too much– feels good.”

Eren’s grin is feral. “Yeah? Tell me.”

“Feels so fucking good,” a little giggle sneaks out from your clenched jaw, Eren smiles wider and cups your face to kiss you again, far too gently to match the way he’s stretching you, bullying your cunt into the shape of him.

“Feel full?”

“Mhm,” he’s bottomed out now, impossibly deep, and you give him a little roll of your hips to show him just how okay you are, that you’re ready to see what he can really do.

“You’ve got–” Eren rolls his hips experimentally, punches a moan from your chest– “the best fucking pussy. So tight for me.”

Ordinarily, dirty talk makes you cringe, but something about the way he words things, as raw as if his inner monologue is spilling out of him, turns you on, makes your cunt clench down around him. That makes him happy, he sucks in a breath of air and starts pounding into you hard enough to make tears well in your eyes, hard enough to make you squeal in a way no one else ever has.

“Taking me so fucking well, baby,” Eren’s hands are grabbing your face, his lips pressing into your forehead, “never gonna let this pussy go.”

You grant him a long moan of agreement, so cockdrunk that for now, you’re more than happy to sign your freedom away to stay in this bed, pinned underneath him for all of eternity. He’s fucking into you so deep he’s practically in your throat; your breath comes out in short little huffs, choking on the brutal pace of his fucking. And god, he’s so big, but you’re taking him somehow, like you were made for it.

Eren moves one of his hands away from his face to swat your fingers away from where you’re digging into his arms, surely close to drawing blood.

“Fucking hurts,” he hisses, “just as mean as you are pretty, y’know that?”

He easily manhandles your arms above your head, pinning them above you by your wrists. The way he stretches his body to do so changes the angle he’s fucking into you at; now he’s hammering into the spot inside of you he’d found far too quickly with his fingers. Your eyes shoot open at the change, and Eren doesn’t miss it. He smirks.

“Right there?”

“God, yes, please– right there,” you sound pathetic, the few surviving rational brain cells you possess are laughing at you, but there’s no help for it. He’s already got you spiraling towards cumming again, the wetness from your cunt creating a sucking sound where he’s moving in and out of you.

“Fuck, m’close. Think you can cum again for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe, tilting your head up to nip at his neck, a tear or two running down into your hairline. You can do anything he asks, you think, anything in the world just for him, for how he’s making you feel. Eren practically growls, pistoning his hips faster.

“Need you to cum for me, okay beautiful? Cum right now.”

“S-so close– I– Eren, oh my god,” you’re babbling, eyes rolling back into your head. Eren smashes his lips to yours, grinding his hips into your clit and shoving you over the edge for the second time that night. You sob and convulse around him, back arching desperately and pressing your chests together. You’re seeing stars as he fucks you through it, grunting in your ear and growing sloppy as you tighten around him.

“Fuck!” Eren bites into your shoulder, hard enough to bruise, stilling his hips as deep inside you as he can manage. Your fucked-out brain wants the condom off, wants to feel the full warmth of him as he cums inside of you, grinding his hips against yours. Before he’s finished, Eren moves back to your mouth, kissing you deep and slow, a kiss that means a whole lot more than what you’ve just done together as a party rages just past the door.

As you’re panting beneath him, trying to ground yourself and come back to reality, Eren rolls off of you, whips the condom off, and to your surprise, takes you into his arms, pulls your head to his chest.

“You okay?”

You’re so blissed out right now that it’s a laughable question, and you giggle, watery and light into his chest. “More than okay.”

Eren laughs at that, a real laugh from deep in his stomach. The sound of it makes something warm and happy spark in your chest. “That good, huh?”

“You’re alright.” You’re trying to keep your eyes open, more than aware that your teeny tiny thong is on the floor and you’re naked in the arms of a stranger in Jean’s fucking bed, but Eren’s so warm, so comfortable, your eyes are fluttering despite your protests. 

“Oh?” Eren’s voice raises in pitch, gets breathy. “Yes, Eren! Right there, Eren! I’m cumming, Eren!”

“Oh my god, shut up!” You smack at his chest, cheeks burning, but you make no move to roll away from him, preferring your snug little hovel against him to the loud, smoky party that awaits you should you leave.

“S’okay,” Eren presses a kiss to your hairline, “I like that you’re loud.”

“Not loud,” you grouch, resolving to let yourself enjoy just a few minutes of keeping your eyes closed before you return to the party. The last thing you remember is Eren humming, tracing circles into your shoulders with his fingers. You think you recognize the tune; it’s a love song.

–

“Jaeger!”

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god, is that Jean? What time is it? Eren!”

Eren’s first peaceful sleep in months is disturbed rather rudely, in his opinion; he shields his eyes from the brightness of the overhead light, peering through his fingers to see you, hair a rat’s nest and smudged makeup in rings around your eyes. He scowls at the warm, empty spot next to him in the bed that you’ve already leapt out of, frantic with energy even through your hangover. You’re alternating between running around the room naked, trying to find your dress, and shaking him urgently. He bites back a grin; so you are real, and just as hot as he remembered.

“Chill the fuck out, Jean!” Eren shouts, using far more energy than he can afford to expend if he’s leaving the bed anytime soon. The alarm clock on the nightstand reads 7:01am. Shit. “We’ll be out in a second!”

“Get your ass out here, Eren!” Shit. Mikasa’s here too? Oh, he’s dead the second he leaves this room. All the better to stay put, then.

“Get up,” you hiss at him, looking every bit of a pissed-off racoon as you scrounge around on the floor.

“Need my hair tie back if you want me to get up.”

“Ugh, here,” you fling it at him, hitting him squarely in the forehead. Eren chuckles, pulling his hair off of his neck and into its usual bun. He feels empty, feels alone, realizes that he wants your touch, the same body-to-body contact that he’d enjoyed last night.. 

“They’re fine,” Eren grumbles, hoping you can’t see the amusement written on his face, “we’ve got a few more minutes.”

He reaches sleepily for you, pulling you back into the bed with him amidst your whispered protests, pulling your lips back to his where they belong. He kisses you slowly, indulgently, convincingly. Your skin against his does wonders for the soul-crushing anxiety he’s been putting up with over the last few months. You’re like a drug to him; just one hit and he feels worlds better, feels like he can actually get through everything weighing on him for now. Jesus, even your morning breath doesn’t turn him off; his cock twitches in interest beneath the covers. Cute when you’re angry, he thinks to himself. He has a feeling you’d smack him if he said it out loud.

“We can’t,” you breathe into his mouth, pushing weakly at his chest. Eren loves the feel of your palms on his chest, necessarily resistant in the name of a one–night stand, but lacking the force to prove your point. You want him too, he realizes. The thought goes straight to his dick, and he takes a deep breath to keep his composure, to stop himself from jumping all over you with Mikasa and Jean right outside. He’s rather impressed with his efforts, rubbing small circles on your lower back instead of grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you into his lap like he wants to.

“We can,” Eren murmurs back, already ten times happier than he was a moment ago, “just want to kiss you, that’s all.”

That makes you pull back, fix him with a stern look. “I don’t want to come off as a bitch, but I don’t really do the morning-after thing. Don’t you live, like, five hours from the city anyway?”

Eren’s not the brightest when he’s tired, and he’s even stupider around beautiful women. He cocks his head at you, smiling. “Mikasa didn’t tell you? I’m moving to the city in a few weeks.”

You eye him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Eren’s bullshitting, bullshitting very badly and he knows it, “just have to get some things worked out with my brother and our business. Get the operation moved here, that’s all.”

He knows your type: flighty, heavily anti-commitment, and meaner than a snake when you’re cornered. But Eren hopes, he hopes stupidly and against all reason because even if it was just a night, he meant what he said in the throes of passion. You’re funny, you’re interesting, you’re sexy, and he doesn’t want to let you go. He wants to fuck you stupid, just like he did last night, for the rest of his life.

He can’t say any of this out loud, of course, but what if he’s not bullshitting? What if he can convince Zeke to move their amateur record label into the city, where they can pick up real artists, and he can fuck you stupid whenever he feels like it? Maybe he can even learn how you like your coffee, what your bra size is, where the junk drawer in your apartment lives. Eren doesn’t know you, he knows that, but he inexplicably wants those things, wants the mundane parts of you for himself.

“Get the fuck out here, Jaeger, that’s my fucking bed!” Fists pound against the door, threatening to barge into your little sanctuary. Mikasa’s calling your name from outside too, voice harsh and angry. Eren waits for you to scold him, waits for you to shove him off of you and tell him to fuck off.

To his surprise, you make no move to get up and offer him a sheepish grin, shrugging shyly as if you’re not fully naked in his arms. “I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

Eren’s heart swells. “I’m not chancing that. Give me your number.”“You can earn my number if you buy me breakfast,” you scoff, “and help me find my dress before Mikasa kills us both.”

[deny-the-issue]

Autumnal Reaping

Chapter Three: Nevarrite

Masterlist <- Previous chapter

Summary: While delivering your answer to Emmrich, Manfred finds something interesting.

Thank you to my wonderful friend for beta reading, @juniper-sunny <3 The next chapter has their first steamy moment! I hope to have it out within the next 1-2 weeks.

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[MDNI] [Emmrich x you] [Emmrich x Reader] [no y/n] [fluff] [angst] [fat!reader] [reader has boobs and vulva] [eventual smut] [eventual romance] [non-binary pronouns] [angst with a happy ending] [3.4k words]

Torrential rain drowns out all other sound as green lightning crackles across the sky. The flicker of illumination reveals distant floating islands of barren rock, the same as the one beneath your feet. The water soaks your skin, yet you do not feel it—only the harsh tempest wind threatening to push you into the abyss. The static charge builds around you, a tickling taste of the incoming danger. 

Your heart pounds in your ears just as loud as the tumultuous thunder reverberating in your ribcage, a steady war drum telling you to run. 

Dashing from the island, you jump, your body weightless and your legs infinitely powerful. Landing on a treacherous island, the edge crumbles beneath your feet.  

Your hands hit the ledge but do not grip, leaving you with fists full of black rock-dust as you fall into the unknown. 

Gasping awake, you clutch your sheets as if they’d save you. Body slick with sweat, heart racing–you must’ve had a doozy of a nightmare. 

Another dream running from something, you guess. There is a distinct pressure behind your eyes, and a fuzziness to your thoughts as you try to remember. It’s as if your brain is rebelling–hiding your dreams behind a brick wall, and you only catch a glimpse as your mind slathers on the mortar to add another brick.

Sighing heavily, you rub your eyes as you swing your feet over the edge of the bed, curling your toes against the soft fabric of the rug. Hand firmly on your chest, you focus your breathing, closing your eyes. 

It’s ok. Nothing is wrong. You’re safe.

The inner mantra is now so familiar you could recite it in your sleep, and probably have. Your heart begins to slow, and the ambient air feels cool through your sweat-drenched nightshirt. 

Your breath hitches at the sound of scratching, heart jumping right back into your throat. Stiff joints crack from movement, but you don’t let that stop your creeping. On tip-toes, you approach the source—your bedroom door. 

Hiding behind the frame, you cautiously unlock the door and open it, peeking through the gap. Looking left and right, there’s nothing to be seen. 

Just before you close the door, movement below catches your eye. 

A heavy, relieved sigh relaxes your body and you open the door a little wider. 

“I’m starting to think you like to scare me half to death! You’re lucky you’re cute.” 

The black cat from the other night strolls into your bedroom as if it owns the place, rubbing its tail against your leg as it passes. 

After closing the door, you sit on the edge of the bed and the cat jumps right up, walking into your lap. Its sharp claws poke your legs, too long to truly retract, but you don’t mind. Not when a fluffy creature is making itself comfortable on you. 

Inspecting it as much as you can, you surmise it's either a female or a neutered male. Going by the head to body proportion, you’re leaning towards a neutered male. 

Not that it matters. Who needs gender anyway. 

But this does mean you’ll have to declare it to the registrar in case someone is missing this cute fluffy baby. 

“You’d tell me if you had an owner, right?” You scratch behind its ears. 

A yawn is its only answer, showing off pearly white fangs. 

You try not to get too attached but you know you’re in too deep already. You’re already thinking of names–this isn’t good.

Looking at the clock, you groan. It’s time for work and you haven’t mentally prepared for it yet. Begrudgingly, you move the cat onto the bed and stand to get ready, heart breaking as it looks at you with betrayal in its eyes. 

“I’ll be back tonight, little one,” you promise.

Humming as you brush your teeth and wash your face, you plan to stop by the kitchens before reporting in for work. Not for yourself, but for the cat. You don’t want it to go hungry while you work. 

What about a litter box?!

Oh—you’re going to be late for sure. Matron Thistle can suck it, though. The cat comes first.

Filled with energy you haven’t felt in months, you run around gathering supplies for your new furry friend. Arriving back at your room, you admire the small hoard with a tired huff. Litter, a litter tray, bowls for food and water, unseasoned chicken from the kitchens, and even a few mouse toys.

The only thing you’d like to add is a scratching post—but this will do nicely. It warms your heart looking at the cat curled up on your bed. The sight makes all of this effort more than worth it. 

You’re two hours late by the time you report in to Matron Thistle. 

“I’d be disappointed if it weren’t a habit for you, Watcher. Unreliable and chronically late—if I could relieve you of this position, I would!”

Head down, you wait out the storm while rhythmically tapping your fingers against your leg, taking whatever assignment she throws at you. If she goes on any longer she may have another spicy surprise waiting for her. 

She is right, as much as you loathe to admit. This is a normal occurrence for you. Your migraines are debilitating. Full stop. On the days where they aren’t as terrible, you take your time getting ready and still go to work. But the fact remains–you miss quite a lot of work compared to a healthy person of your age. 

It’s something that is constantly rubbed in your face by the matron.

If you accept Emmrich’s offer, it’s not like your health issues would magically go away. You need flexible hours and no small amount of understanding, all without an official diagnosis from a reputable healer. 

As you go about cleaning the dissection laboratories, you mull over the predicament. 

Not wanting to ask so much of the man who is throwing you a lifeline, the easy way out is to refuse the opportunity. That doesn’t sit with you well, either, and it takes some time before you see why.

It would be unfair to make the decision for him. 

The flurry of thoughts turn your stomach and cloud your mind. Feeling much like the mindless undead by the end of your shift, you drag your feet to the metaphysics laboratories, taking a right at the end just as Emmrich instructed. 

Coming to the last door, a gold plaque labeled “Professor Emmrich Volkarin” decorates the dark wooden door, and below it is a laminated schedule. 

Damn, it’s after his normal office hours already. 

Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door, half-expecting no one to answer. 

Your lungs turn against you, forgetting how to breathe when you hear someone approach from the other side. 

The door swings wide open, revealing Emmrich. Without his coat, you admire his usual attire in a new light. He’s wearing his teal vest, red waist-sash, bone-yellow dress shirt, and tan pants, all accentuated by his grave gold. Both of his forearms are encircled in gold bracelets, with rings decorating his thin fingers, a leather glove on one hand, a skull pin on his collar, and gold chains on his vest pockets. 

He is the painting of eloquence, as always.

“Ah! I was wondering when you’d come by,” he beams. “Come in! Come in.”

You expect the office to be, well, office-sized. But the room you step into is twice as large as your personal quarters, its walls lined with tall bookshelves. Thick tomes line the shelves, supported by ornate, griffin shelf-weights where they end and artifacts begin. At the back of the office rests a large window with a desk placed  in front, facing the door. The ample, empty floor space in which you stand emulates the typical classroom layout without the chairs for students. 

A small brown couch rests with its back against the window, adding a comfortable, lived-in feeling, decorated with a few lilac-colored pillows—a complementary accent from the usual green of the Mourn Watch.

There are two doors along the left side of the room, and you can see the flickering of a lamp through the closest one with its door slightly ajar. 

“How are you feeling?” Emmrich asks, and you notice a glimmer of worry in his tone. 

Do you really look that bad? 

Coming straight off a shift with no time for a morning shower—of course you do. 

“I’m fine! Just tired—It’s been a long day.” You rub the back of your neck. 

“Physical labor takes a heavy toll on the body. What do you do?” His polite curiosity catches you off guard. 

“Hm? Oh, I’m part of the cleaning crew.”

“Is it of your choosing?”

“It’s one of the only positions they can’t dismiss me from.” You wring your hands together. 

“What do you mean?” He asks, brow furrowing with concern. 

“I have… problems,” you shrug, looking at the floor. “I get frequent migraines that prevent me from working.”

“Have you been to the infirmary?”

“Lots of times.” You shuffle your feet. 

“What do they have to say on the matter?” Emmrich's tone is more stern by the moment. 

“They tell me to lose weight.” Your voice sounds distant, as if you’re only a passenger in the conversation. 

This is your life. You promised to be honest with him, and here it is. 

“That is entirely unacceptable!” he balks. “I’m sorry. You deserve better treatment.”

You smile sadly, knowing it’s true but too exhausted for righteous anger. 

Emmrich sighs and shakes his head.

After a few torturously silent seconds, he asks, “What kind of accommodations can I provide to make this position viable for you?”

Brows raised, eyes wide–you never expected to come this far. No one has ever asked you such a thing. White-knuckling your way through life, you never seriously stopped to think what would make it easier. 

“Um—a flexible schedule, for sure. I might need to rest in the middle of the day.”

“Would this sofa fit your needs?” he asks, gesturing to the couch at the back of the room. 

“Um, I don’t think so,” you dig a fingernail into the knuckle of your other hand. “It’s too out in the open.”

“Ah, I might have just the solution!” Emmrich suggests, walking over to the open door. “Right over here is a room I use for storage. If we clean it up, we could make it your personal refuge.”

He nudges the door open and calls out, “Manfred! We have a guest—oh, where did he go?”

The room appears to be devoid of life and spirit, though it’s hard to tell. It’s a hoarder’s delight with boxes, lamps, and errant furniture haphazardly stacked higher than you are tall. 

“I apologize for the state of the room. I suppose I’ve let things go a bit.” He smiles sheepishly. 

“It’s al—“ you’re interrupted by a displeased hiss coming from somewhere in the back of the room. 

“Manfred?!” Emmrich’s pitch is high as he quickly disappears behind a stack of boxes. 

You follow close behind. Who knows what Manfred could get up to here.

Skeletons are so very fragile, even at the best of times. Lacking the tendons and ligaments that keep the living together, their frames rely on regular maintenance and magic. 

Rounding a dark corner, you almost run into Emmrich as he stops abruptly. Peeking around him, it looks as though an avalanche happened recently—where there was clearly a stack is now a pile, blocking Manfred’s way out. 

Emmrich tsks, “Oh, Manfred. Again?”

Manfred is suspiciously quiet, his goggles glinting in the low light. 

“Let’s see here,” Emmrich mumbles as attempts to right an overturned box on the top of the mess.  

When the stacked items shift subtly, you shout, “Wait!”

Emmrich freezes just in time. The pile sways dangerously around Manfred as he screeches, shielding his head with his boney hands. 

“Makers breath! What were you even looking for back here?” Emmrich asks, cautiously stepping away from the mess. 

Manfred holds up a small rock proudly and hisses, “Crystal!”

“What—oh, I’ll examine it after we rescue you.” Emmrich sighs, placing his hands on his hips as he examines the pile. 

“May I?” you stand at the ready.

“Please,” Emmrich concedes with an exasperated sigh. 

This isn’t the first professor’s hoard you’ve had to deal with, and it certainly won’t be the last. At least this time, it’s for a person you like. 

He stands a few paces back, allowing you some space to work. With every piece you remove, you can feel his trepidation at your back. Including him in the process helps both your nerves. 

You never liked being watched, especially when the stakes are so high. 

Working in sync, you hand him the fragile items as well as things he’s excited to discover again. An ornate, ceramic lamp here, a small sculpture there, and multiple sets of tools to hobbies long abandoned—just to name a few. 

It takes some time and a good deal of effort, but you manage to clear a safe way out for Manfred. 

“Yay!” hisses Manfred, skittering away from the cursed pile like it wants to swallow him whole. 

“Manfred, don’t run off!” Emmrich chastises, and you both follow the rogue skeleton into the office. 

Emmrich holds out his hand. “Now, show me the crystal, if you please.”

Manfred places the dark crystal into Emmrich’s open palm, excited to see what becomes of it. 

“Very good. Thank you, Manfred.” Emmrich holds the seemingly opaque, black crystal up to the light to observe, revealing the shimmering blue, purple, and green tints within. “How exquisite!”

Hissing impatiently, Manfred raises his hands toward the stone. Viridescent light erupts from his boney fingers, gathering an etheric storm.

A gust of wind pushes you back a step, and you brace against it, static building within you. It lasts but a moment before Emmrich contains the glowing crystal, now a radiant azure color. 

Errant papers upheaved by the gust flitter to the floor as Manfred cheers.

“Ah, yes! If I remember correctly, this crystal belongs in a glass container. Where is it, and how did you open it?” Emmrich asks with infinite patience.

“I think I can answer that one,” you speak up. “I saw some shattered glass on the floor as I was moving stuff around.”

“I see.” Emmrich addresses Manfred the same way a stern parent would. “Did you connect with the crystal in the storage room, Manfred?”

As they talk, the crystal’s brilliant color fades to its original shade, reminiscent of unfathomably deep water. You felt something when Manfred connected to it. Something calling to you–something like magic. It’s an exhilarating taste, and you fixate on the crystal.

“Yes!” Manfred hisses all too enthusiastically, like he didn’t just cause two near-catastrophes in a row.

“Then you should have no qualms helping me organize the storage room, starting tomorrow.” Emmrich calmly commands, and Manfred concedes with a mopey hiss.

You don’t know how you didn’t see it before, but it’s clear to you now. Manfred is Emmrich’s skeletal son. Of course, not literally–every Mourn Watcher would know a curiosity spirit when they see one. Their endearing dynamic fills your chest with warmth. 

Showing your observations only through a shy smile, you give in to your inquisitive side. 

“What is it?” You gesture to the crystal. 

“It’s a small piece of a very rare, fade-touched crystal! If you’ve taken the Watcher’s geology course, you should know such crystals are precious minerals imbued with ancient magic.

“As far as I’ve discerned, this particular piece of Nevarrite amplifies channeled magicks to a much higher degree than any other,” Emmrich elaborates excitedly.

You could listen to him speak all day, drinking in his words like they’re fine wine.

“Is that why I felt something?” you think aloud. 

“What did you feel?” Emmrich asks, eyes wide with intrigue.

“Kind of like a… tingly feeling? I guess? Sorry—I’m not good at describing things.” Heat creeps into your face.

“That’s perfectly fine! If this is something you wish to pursue, we could experiment together.”

“Even if I can’t channel?” Your voice is low and reluctant. 

“We won’t know until we try,” he answers, clasping his hands together. 

“I’ll think about it?” You meant it as a statement, but it comes out as a question. 

“Sounds perfectly reasonable to me,” he beams, “I do hope that means you’ve accepted the role as my research partner?”

You have to remember to breathe when he looks at you with such unadulterated joy. How can you say no to him?

“Yeah—yes,” you stutter, flustered and tongue-tied. “I will be your research partner.” 

Manfred hisses happily, breaking into a silly dance with entirely too much elbow jabbing. 

“Brilliant! I will send the appropriate paperwork over to Matron Thistle—is that right?” he asks, getting right to the heart of things. 

Imagining that crone’s face when she receives the transfer orders fills you with such spiteful, giddy satisfaction.

“That’s right,” you answer confidently. 

“I’ll hand-deliver them first thing tomorrow, you’ll report to Matron Thistle one last time, and then we’ll start our journey the day after. How does that sound?”

“As long as my health holds out–perfect!” you agree, feeling the need to add that little caveat. 

“Splendid!” A large, grandfather clock near the door chimes a perfectly in tune chord, interrupting Emmrich. “Oh dear, is that the time?”

It’s already been an hour and a half since you arrived at his door–where did the time go?! Even Manfred seems surprised, but he might just be emulating his father. 

“I’m terribly late for supper with a friend and colleague—“ he explains as he dramatically dons his signature green fabric and red leather coat. “I’m sorry to cut this short.”

“That’s ok!” You’re quick to soothe, backing towards the door. “I hope you have a good time.”

“I wish to say something before you go, dear.” He stops you with a light touch on your shoulder. “There are many important members of the Mourn Watch who are not mortalitasi. The two are not mutually exclusive, nor is it something that is detrimental to your position as a Watcher. I do not know why your research applications were denied, but I believe you have a bright future ahead, with or without necromancy.”

“Oh, that’s not why it was denied–I appreciate that, though. It means a great deal coming from you.” You smile as tension settles in your shoulders. 

“Curious as ever,” he exclaims with a sparkle in his eyes. “A topic for another time! I hope you have a restful evening, dear. And—thank you for helping Manfred. We would have been in a real conundrum if you weren’t here!”

“Anytime,” a lighthearted laugh accompanies your bashful grin. 

Manfred waves, “Bye!!!”

“Goodnight! I’ll see you two in a few days.” Your promise seems a lifetime away and just around the corner. 

Walking back to your room, a numb curtain drapes itself over your tired mind. Too many good things are happening at once, and you have no idea how you should feel about it. 

Happy, obviously, because you’re finally going somewhere. Anxious, because it would be so easy to slide right back down that ladder. Smitten with Emmrich, to a degree you have not admitted to yourself yet. 

And what was up with that crystal?!

Unlocking your door with glazed-over eyes, you open the door to your room, dropping your bag in its usual place with a heavy thunk. 

A shadowy blur bolts under your bed, bunching up the carpet in its fervor. 

“Shit, I’m sorry!” you wince. 

How could you forget about the cat?! 

Kneeling at your bedside, you lean down, peeking under the bed. Golden, glowing eyes are fixed on you, silently watching your every movement. 

“Pspspsps,” you call and the cat creeps forward. “It’s ok, baby. Come here.”

It stares at you from the inky darkness, unmoving. 

“I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t mean to scare you.” Pleading doesn’t seem to work, either.

You sit back on your haunches and sigh. Closing your eyes, the world spins ever so slightly around you. A loud gurgle brings you back to reality, and you absentmindedly rub your stomach. 

“How about we get some dinner, hm? You want some more chicken?” 

The cat crawls out from under the bed and chirps at you excitedly. 

“Oh, I see how it is. No treats–no love, hm?” You scratch his head adoringly. 

Its fur is so dark and lustrous, it makes you think of volcanic glass.

“Obsidian,” you name it, “Sid for short. How do you like that?”

Sid purrs loudly, rubbing its cheek against your hand for the tenth time in a row. On the eleventh pass, it nibbles your finger lightly, a thinly-veiled threat. 

 “Alright, alright,” you laugh, “let’s get some food.”

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[koisuko]

Could I request reader as a cat, but with the mk 1 girls?

Absolutely! (Forgive me this is long overdue and has been sitting in my drafts, im slowly losing my passion and motivation for mk1 content im sorry jehfjsjf)

Pov: You are a cat (pt4)

how the mk1 characters react to you as a stray cat, one with an oddly familiar/fitting name

part 1, part 2, part 3, bonus

Tw: none, gn, platonic, kitty cat

Ft: Mileena, Kitana, Sindel, Li Mei, Tanya

Mileena

Ever since her mother past, even if her soul was safe with her father, she found it hard to find the time to grieve. It wasn’t the same, not being able to speak to her, hug her, learn from her. And now, the newly passed duties of empress was thrown on her by circumstance, taking up nearly her entire day.

When in the solace of her room, hidden away from prying eyes, even for just a moment, she would let a tear slip down her cheek. All the inner turmoil collected into that single drop, and staining the silky case of her pillow.

All the struggle was slowly healed when you came along, trotting happily into the castle with your tail held high. You were a stray, with your once soft black fur now dirty and matted. She took pity on you, feeling the need to care for you tugging at the strings of her aching heart. And so she did, finding an almost therapeutic rhythm when brushing your shiny coat. Upon finding the small tag dangling on your neck, she was baffled to see it read ‘Tanya’. She almost giggled at it, such a bizarre coincidence to find a gentle companion with the same name as her lover.

During the nights, when the peace and quiet is a luxury earned, she lays on her satin sheets in deep thought. You, her new found friend, curled into a small ball against her side. Your purrs vibrate through her waist, bringing out a soft sigh of content from her lips. “Thank you, Tanya,” she whispered, “you’ve done a wonderful job fending off the sadness that plagues me.” She gently stroked your back, reaching up to scratch behind your ears. Both of you, at peace even for a moment, slipped into a dreamless slumber.

Kitana

It was hard watching her sister, watching her lack the time to grieve, watching her suffer in silence and create a fake facade of happiness in front of the people. Kitana wasn’t as high status as her, so she could afford just a little time alone, something she was grateful for. If she could, she would take her place, even for a moment to allow her some freedom.

Even with the time she had, she still missed her mother greatly. It was too early, unnatural even for her mother to be gone. She almost felt lost, lacking her mother’s usual guidance and watchful eye was akin to a motherless fawn.

It had been a normal day, tending to duties, but a particularly sad day. A day filled with heavy sorrow, the stages of grief hitting Kitana like a train. Her sister is busy, tending to duties as a new empress, and this left her feeling empty and alone. Never the less, she kept a neutral expression through out the day, even a small smile for the cherry on top.

But as night came, she’d sit out in the courtyard, here eyes to the stars above. She’d whisper to the night sky, one prayer at a time, for the safety of her family and the palace. A sudden rustle of a nearby bush breaks her from her thoughts. She approaches with a perplexed expression, “who’s there?” No answer, instead, the bushes rustle once more in response. Kitana took another step closer, cautious and ready, her heart slightly racing with impending adrenaline. To her surprise, a small fluffy feline emerged from the shrubbery, tilting its head in her direction.

“Mreow,” you purred, a simple human translation to a hello. She lowered her stance, relaxing at the sight of you, “hello little one,” she cooed. You chirped in response, trotting over to rub against her legs, looking up with your big adorable eyes. She giggled, there is simply no resisting the pleading gaze of a friendly feline. As if she read your mind, she gingerly scooped you up into her arms, cradling you close to her chest. While doing so, her fingers grazed the hem of your collar, causing her to retract for a moment in surprise. When looking closer, the collar read ‘Sindel’ in a intricate cursive engraving. She gently traced the letters with her fingers, as if committing it to memory. Her eyes welled with tears, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She sniffled, nuzzling her face into your fur with a sigh, “I miss you, mother.”

Sindel

To be reunited with her husband was one thing, but to be inside his body as a spirit was another. Death wasn’t at all as expected, she felt the cold sensation and loss of feeling that came with it, but did not go to some whimsical after life. Considering the death of the forest of souls, there was no going there. A shame, really, she wanted to experience it for herself. But, considering she was with her husband once more, it felt safer than the forest.

The best she could describe it would be, feeling whole again, realizing a part of her that she was missing. She felt a strange connection between her and the other spirits there, as if a cord interlocked them at the core. Every feeling, every thought, it was all shared between them as a collective. Negativity didn’t exist, all the fear and longing she once felt, was gone now.

There was a place where everyone was a physical, walking around in a blank plane of white and fog. This is where she could be with her husband, reunited once again in pure bliss. The area was endless, even if you chose to walk continuously, you would never reach an end.

Sindel sat near the edge of the group, waiting for her husband to return once again. She looked off into the endless pool of white, deep in thought. She could see the memories of her past life, memories of her children, husband, and the kingdom. All the memories skimming over her brain like a slide show, all the way up to her untimely death. Reaching down, she gingerly caressed the wound where the katana had struck and killed her. She could remember the look of dread and sorrow on her daughter’s face, but proud was the only thing she could feel. Sindel could see the progress Mileena and Kitana have made through Jared’s eyes, and regardless if she could tell them or not, she was beyond overjoyed.

A sudden presence beside her lured her out of her trance. When she looked, she was surprised to see you, the spirit of a small house cat. It was unusual to see animals here, but never has it been unwelcome. Perhaps the others have not noticed you, as usually they would flock to an animal newcomer. She smiled down at you, admiring the beauty of your coat while you groom your paw in silence. You turned your head in response, looking up at her with one big eye, the other closed off as a token of your past life. You could sense that she was waiting, and decided to keep her company. You stood, stretching your back before trotting over to her. You didn’t hesitate, making yourself right at home on Sindel’s lap. There was no protest from her, instead, she placed a gentle hand on your back and stroked her fingers through your fur. It had been quite some time since you had been pet, your past life lacking the love and care you craved so much. If only Sindel had found you when you both were alive, she would surely take you in as her own. She scratched the top of your head, eliciting a soft purr of satisfaction from you. Sindel continued to wait for her husband, watching memories flow by, but this time with a new friend.

Li Mei

Li Mei practically watched Sindel’s daughters grow up from small infants to young women. She nearly felt her eyes well with tears, watching the coronation of Mileena through blurred eyes. Even if she gained the role through circumstance, she was still unbelievable proud.

It was unfortunate, downright depressing, losing the best friend she had just got back. After years of pleading with Sindel, working so hard to regain her trust after Jared’s passing, she had finally rebuilt the bond once broken. Only for the untimely death of her best friend, regaining her best friend’s husband in her place. Although, it was a relief to learn from Jared that she had safe passage to an afterlife of some sort. And, she was happy to hear that they were reunited, even if it was through failed dark magic.

After her promotion for her heroic acts, she felt alone and home sick. She felt wrong in the place as chief of imperial police, missing the streets of Sun Do where she kept peace for so many years. Now, she sat in her office as a newly reinstated first constable, mindlessly dragging the pen across parchment. She had taken up journaling, a simple way to vent out the everyday frustrations of police work, and to pass time on off days where crime was minimal. Paperwork from the days criminals had stacked neatly in the corner of the desk, a small lamp hovered over the various journal papers. She sighed, setting the pen down and leaning back in her seat. Stretching her back with a satisfying pop before making way to the exit of her office.

A sudden shrill shriek startled Li Mei, nearly sounding like a child screaming for help. At this time of night? She swiftly ran to a nearby alleyway where she was surprised to see the source of the sound was a cat fight between strays. One was much larger, covered in fluffy orange fur, and the other a small and scrawny brown tabby. The smaller one let out a meek hiss, while the larger one raised a paw ready to strike. You bolted behind Li Mei’s leg, having accidentally stumbled into the territory of a large Tom cat. He was aggressive, fiercely defending his home and potential breeding area, to which you wanted no part of and simply made your way here by curiosity alone. As the Tom cat made an attempt to run towards you, Li Mei stomped her foot, “hey! Quit the scuffle.” The Tom cat hesitated at first, giving you one last hiss before running back through the alley where it came from. Li Mei brought her attention to the small tabby hidden behind her, lowering to crouch beside you, “quite the predicament you got yourself into hm?” She brought her hand to your eye level, to which you gave it a gentle sniff. Paper, ink, and a small amount of roast lingered on her skin, remnants of her lunch eliciting a heavy pang in your stomach. “Are you hungry?” She frowned, studying the current state of your boney ribs and dirtied fur. You meowed, your eyes large in a pitiful beg for a scrap of satiation. She smiled, scooping you up in her arms, “let’s get some dinner in you little one,” walking back into the headquarters. She felt a strange fabric on your neck, the dirt covering making it nearly impossible to notice at first. Attached to it, was a small metal heart, rusted and covered in mud. Upon wiping it with her thumb, the words on it read “umgadi”. She giggled, “my past comes back to me.” From then on, you made several returns to her for food and protection, until eventually, you were adopted by her with open arms.

Tanya

When she wasn’t with Mileena, majority of her time was occupied by the duties of leader of the Umgadi. Being at such a high rank, and rebuilding the Umgadi from the ground up to be reformed from a few rotten apples, had kept her a very busy woman. Tanya made sure to thoroughly wring out every pupil to keep out the rats who conspire against both the Umgadi principles, and the kingdom itself.

Tanya stride down the hallways of the palace, her heels clicking against the pristine floors of the Umgadi barracks. She held an air of confidence, her head held high and eyes straight ahead. She smiled as the gentle snores of her sisters reached her ears, the peaceful sound of slumber fading slightly with every step. She had an objective in mind, her feet carrying her to the palace gardens where her lover waits.

Upon arriving, just at the entrance, two small cats walked side by side with their tails wrapped over each other. They seemed so peaceful, enjoying each other’s company under the starlit sky. She hadn’t meant to intrude, but once noticed by the two felines, one had bolted into a nearby hedge. The one remaining, a small calico, had looked at her with curiosity. You did not run, instead, you sat right where you were, to convey that you were not afraid. Tanya smiled, lowering herself to a crouch and reaching a hand in your direction, “it’s alright, I won’t harm you.” You sniffed the air, catching a whiff of her scent, the smell akin to a sunlit field of flowers with a hint of honey. You slowly approached, your neck elongated to sniff her outstretched hand without risking too much. She smiled, tilting her head with curiosity, “what’s your name, little one?” You lifted your head, just enough for her to catch a glimpse of a name on your collar. It read, “Mileena”. She smirked at the engraving, “what a beautiful name.”

[tinknevertalks]

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyway! 

Thank you for the tag @agent-troi! And @electricrogue! And @truedairship! 😂🥰😂

On to the fic!

1. In The Nice Part of Town - Chapter 53

There were days where sleep faded away like the dew on a sunny spring day. Waking was gradual, enjoyable even, all warm and soft in her duvet. Then there were days like these, where consciousness struck sleep away like a six in cricket. One second she was in the land of nod, the next - bright awakenings. No, no opening her eyes just yet. Her one saving grace was the very small ache that battered her head. It could've been much worse, a hangover for the ages, had Nikola not carried her to the kitchen then fed her. Really, if she kept her eyes closed, she could imagine his arms around her still, his heartbeat under her--

Heartbeat? Inhalation? Opening one eye just a crack she was inundated with grey. She didn't have grey sheets, or pillowcases or… Exhalation. Ruffling the crown of her head. Warm arms tightening. That wonderful smell of Nikola's soap all around her.

Oh. Oh yes… Like a wet blanket, she'd all but begged him to stay. Oh heavens.

2. Endearing

“Americans are odd creatures,” Evy announced, as she and Rick exited the cinema. Dozens of people flowed around them, but all she saw was him. “Why on Earth would a mummy arise from the dead for secret treasure? It doesn't make any sense at all.”

“Honey, not everyone's been chased by a mummy raised from the dead.” Rick stopped, and turned back to face her. “What?”

3. A Treat

Helen noticed the earrings first. Little orange pumpkins that glittered, with knowing enamel grins. Kate laughed throatily when Helen nipped her lobes.

Next was the bra, black lace over burnt orange satin. Nikola tore it to shreds with his gentle, razor sharp talons. “Tut tut, Miss Freelander, succumbing like that to the most garish of holidays.”

4. When Samantha Met God

The flat was a veritable shrine to all things Halloween. Pumpkins dotted all the tables, each with its own expression, fake spiderwebs hung from the ceiling, buckets of popcorn and sweets covered every available space. Even the lights were pumpkin orange, neon slime green, and vibrant violet. Abby’s eyes widened trying to take everything in. “Nikola’s met his other half decorating wise,” she mumbled to herself.

“Nah, Doctor M just told him to go hog wild, and Nikola is a diva,” the woman next to her explained.

5. Smell My Feet!

They were sat in front of the open fire, Nikola swirling his wine in one hand, his other arm firmly wrapped around Helen. It had been a busy day, with various abnormals all vying for Helen's attention. He'd been in the lab all day, trying to fix the weather machine - it either drizzled or monsoon'd, neither of which was good for the Arctic biome. But now? Now they could sit, and snuggle, and--

“TRICK OR TREAT!” In flew Alice, glittery fairy wings fluttering and biker boots stomping, with a very harried (and hairy) Henry in her wake. “Smell my feet! Give me something good to eat!” Following them both was Ashley, laughing at Henry trying to control his quicksilver kid.

6. Vampire

“Cute, Abs, with the,” Will circled his mouth with his finger, “and the blood. Yeah, real creepy.”

Abby's brow furrowed. Slowly, agonisingly, her tongue licked her lips, eyes widening over the sharp tips.

Will's stomach dropped - she wasn't surprised.

7. Trick or Treat?

Sam couldn't believe her eyes. Janet had opened the door and Sam's yell of, “Trick or treat!” died before given voice. Swallowing, Sam blinked a few times, taking in the absolute vision of wicked delight in the doorway.

“Cat got your tongue, Major?” Janet asked, winking.

Sam couldn't breathe, the tight catsuit a second skin, with little fluffy ears peeking out of her dark hair.

8. Breakfast in Bed?

They were indulging in a spot of lounging in bed, the morning sunbeams filtered by the intricate lace curtains Abby insisted on hanging. Didn't matter for a moment that the light wasn't starlight but the soft Praxian light they'd all grown accustomed to. “It feels cold without them,” she’d admitted one night, curled around Helen like a vine.

Right now, however, in the morning light, Abby was taking her sweet time brushing her fingers over Helen’s skin. “Where’d this come from?” she asked, tracing a faint white scar across Helen’s upper abdomen, close to her rib cage.

9. Goodnight Sweetheart

Abby was already asleep by the time Will crawled into his bedroom. It was his turn to feed the alliedally, who only ate for five minutes once every nineteen and a half hours. He was wiped. His bed, and Abby’s gentle breathing, called to him.

“How did I get so lucky?” he murmured, stripping out of the sweats he’d worn for the five minute frenzy. She looked so peaceful in the golden glow of the lamp, the soft light highlighting the graceful curves of her body. Crawling onto the bed, his lips landed on the first bit of her skin he could reach - a perfect, golden skinned shoulder blade.

10. Nothing to See

They’d been running a while, the thrum of adrenaline blending and merging with the effects of the armbands, their breathing (minimal as their breaths were) a rhythmic tandem. Sam hadn't felt this free since their impromptu vacation after destroying the Replicators on Thor's ship. Were they even running? The impact of feet on concrete said yes, her lungs said no. It was all so easy. The clarity of it all filled her senses. Glancing to her right, the Colonel right there, smiling back, struck her with undeniable truth - he was locked firmly in her heart.

No pressure tagging @sarcasticsciencefictionwriter, @ladyelysandra, @chartreuseian, @deadheaddaisy, @cookie-sheet-toboggan, @clintbeifong, @zebsfloppyears l, @milfbrainrot, @samabigailalan, @offworld-lamb and anyone else who wants to join in (listen, I tried to remember who writes on my flist, and who would want to play, and ack). :)

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Hi could I ask for the cod boys coming back from deployment finding out their so adopted another kitten, so didn't want their first cat to be lonely 🥺

𝒶 𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇

Task Force 141

AHHHHHHH! I love cats soooo much and writing this WAS SO MUCH FUNNNNN! And oh my god… Johnny would definitely call his first cat ghost and price would name his first cat gaz. Can’t change my mind. Like they would call them their names because Ghost is Johnny‘s best friend and Gaz is like Price‘s son. Also Johnny would definitely call his second cat soapy. I can’t explain

I really hope you enjoy this <3 Love you💘

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Simon Riley

His home was silent. The only sound was the soft purring of his little cat, Shadow, who sat waiting by the door, her green eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and recognition. As Simon knelt to greet her, Shadow nuzzled into his hand, her warmth seeping into his skin, thawing the ice that had formed around his heart during his long absence.

"Missed me, huh?" Simon's voice was soft, almost a whisper, as if loud words were too harsh for this tender reunion. He scooped Shadow into his arms, feeling her heartbeat against his chest—a small, steady reminder of the life he fought to protect.

That night, as Simon lay awake, Shadow curled up beside him, he couldn't shake the thought of her all alone, waiting for a company that might never return. It was a loneliness he knew all too well.

The next morning, Simon headed to the local animal shelter. It didn't take long for him to find the perfect companion. A tiny, energetic kitten with fur as black as night, whom he named Ghost Jr.

Bringing Ghost Jr. home, Simon watched with a mix of amusement and affection as the two felines circumspectly circled each other, their initial wariness giving way to a budding.

"Alrightttttt" Simon spoke, sitting on the floor to be at their level. "This is your home as much as it is mine. Look out for each other, yeah?" His voice, firm yet gentle

John MacTavish

The deployment had been grueling, and all he longed for was the comfort of his own space. However, there was one particular greeting he yearned for more than anything—the soft purrs and affectionate nuzzles of his little cat, Ghost. He named his cat after his best friend, even through Simon was totally against it.

As he unlocked the door, the quiet of the apartment wrapped around him like a cold embrace. He dropped his bag with a thud and called out, "Ghost, I'm home, buddy."

A moment later, a small, grey feline cautiously peeked around the corner, its green eyes glowing in the dim light. At the sight of John, Ghost darted forward, meowing plaintively, as if chastising him for his long absence.

John couldn't help but smile, scooping Ghost up into his arms. "I missed you too, little man," he whispered, feeling a lump form in his throat. It was then he realized how lonely Ghost must have been. The thought pierced his usually stoic heart.

---

The next morning, John stood before a local animal shelter, determination set in his features. "No buddy of mine is going to feel abandoned," he muttered to himself, recalling Ghost's solitary figure. Inside, he was greeted by the sound of countless cats, but it was a tiny, energetic kitten that caught his eye—a ball of fur with a mischievous twinkle that reminded him so much of... well, himself.

"Looks like you're coming home with us," John said, gently cradling the kitten, already thinking of the perfect name: soapy.

---

Introducing Soapy to Ghost was an amusing affair. Ghost eyed the newcomer with a mix of curiosity, while soapy seemed utterly oblivious, immediately attempting to pounce on Ghost's tail.

John watched, amused. "Easy there, Soapy. Give Ghost some space," he advised, though his words fell on deaf ears as Shadow continued her playful assault.

As John relaxed on the couch, Soapy decided it was the perfect time to showcase her hunting prowess. With a startling leap, she pounced towards John, aiming for his feet. Quick on her feet, Soapy darted away, hiding behind the couch with only her tail sticking out.

Ghost joined the fray, attempting a sneak attack from the other side. John played along, feigning terror at their ambush. "Oh no, you got me! Almost had a heartattack" he exclaimed dramatically, falling back against the cushions.

John Price

"Hello hello my little boy, did you miss me?" Price's britishvoice softer now that he got home after a long deployment outside of the country. Gaz meowed in response, a sound so filled with affection it tugged at the strings of Price's heart he'd long thought frayed and worn.

Sitting down beside Gaz, Price allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. "It's just you and me, mate," he whispered, stroking Gaz's fur gently. "But I reckon it's time we expanded our little squad."

The next day, Price's mission was different from any he had undertaken. He found himself in a local shelter, his gaze meeting that of a small, timid kitten with ash-grey cat. "Ash," he named her on the spot, a fitting companion to Gaz.

Bringing Ash home, Price introduced her to Gaz, watching carefully as the two cats sniffed each other, a silent conversation passing between them. In time, a cautious friendship blossomed, one that Price observed with a sense of pride.

Each night, as Price lay in bed, Gaz took his usual spot at the foot of the bed, while Ash curled up beside Price's head. It was during these quiet hours that the trauma of war came, shaking him from sleep with memories of gunfire and cries of the fallen soldiers he couldn’t save.

But as he woke, heart racing, the soft purring of Gaz and Ash grounded him, reminding him of the life he fought to return to. "Thank god you two exist…" he'd murmur, feeling the weight of his nightmares lessen in their presence.

Kyle Garrick

"Mario?" Kyle called out, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet of the empty house. From around the corner, a small, agile figure dashed towards him, a meow. Mario ran to his his legs, the purring vibrating like a welcome home.

"Hey buddy" Kyle murmured, bending down to scoop Mario into his arms. The cat nuzzled his face, seeking comfort in his owner's familiar scent.

That night, as Kyle lay on his couch, Mario curled up on his chest, a thought struck him. "You need a comrade of your own, don't you, little soldier? It must be soo boring without me here, right? Yeah… You need company.." he whispered, his decision already forming.

Kyle set out on a mission unlike any he had faced before: Operation Mario Rescue. His target was a local shelter, where he hoped to find a company for Mario.

As he walked through the rows of cages, his eyes landed on a timid kitten, its fur a mirror image of Mario's but with a playful spark in its eyes. "Luigi," Kyle whispered, the name coming to him as naturally as if the kitten had introduced itself. It was perfect. Mario and Luigi.

Bringing Luigi home, Kyle introduced him to Mario and within hours the house was filled with the sound of paws chasing and meows.

Kyle found himself laughing, genuinely amused by the antics of his two cats. He'd set up cardboard boxes as makeshift forts, watching as Mario and Luigi darted in and out, their playful battles a stark contrast to the memories Kyle held from the field.

"Alright, Luigi, let's see if you can take on the veteran," Kyle chuckled, dangling a toy mouse before them. The two cats leaped, their movements synchronized in the hunt. "Ah, teamwork. See, this is the kind of backup I've been talking about."

[mx-pastelwriting]

Cat & Mouse (Chapter 3)

Gang Orca (Kugo Sakamata) x GN Villain!Reader

Summary: Kugo finally meets the infamous Villain.

Warnings/Tags: Villain Reader, Teleportation quirk, Sick Reader, Cut hand, Both POV (Second & Third), Sexual mention: Boner & Masterbation

Words: 818

Chapter List

Minors do not interact!

⭑ Your side (Second Person)

Limping your way through the many alleys finally coming into view of the "Gang Orca Hero Agency," "You'd think it would be bigger." You say scanning its short size, but it made up for in width, colored black with white accents reminding of the hero.

Seeing no platforms in sight that you could teleport to, you turned away. "If I can't go to you, then come to me, big boy." You say, stepping out of the shadows and into the view of the district's cameras.

Knowing it wouldn't be long, you stepped back to face the building, taking every window and roof, saving your observation for later as the faint sound of footsteps reached closer. Sneaking back into the shadows, watching as Gang Orca and his sidekick started their search, you felt as your head spun seeing the hero turn to you part of the alley.

"Scan the perimeter," Orca says with his deep voice, making your insides jump, watching as he walks to you and, in the blink of an eye, being slammed up against the rough alley wall. Crying out in pain as his hands held your arms to the wall, trying to wiggle out of his grip with no avail.

"ENOUGH!" He yelled, snapping you out of your fight, your head lowered in defeat, looking up to his red eyes seeing how they filled with anger causing something to spark in you. Feeling as your body felt fuzzy at his rough touch, looking up with almost innocent eyes made him doubt himself.

But your smirk solidified his heroic acts. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself." You whisper, keeping your smirk, "What are you going to do to me?" you ask in a sedative tone that turned his face into shock. Feeling his grip tighten but not saying anything, you move closer to his face, inches away from his lips. "What's wrong, cat got your tongue?" using the tone again while rubbing your leg up his watching as his mind melted.

Using his moment of weakness to teleport behind him, leaving him stunned to your attack, but as any good hero, he blocks you, but not without a cut to his hand, gripping your knife that you had hidden in your suit for times like theses. Watching as he gritted his teeth, cradling his hand while blood seeped out bringing color to the once dull night.

Stepping back looking at your work, taking in the sight of your new hero in pain. "You better like that; it is one hell of a sight to see when a hero is vulnerable." You pause, letting out a breath.

"How lucky I am," you say before your ears perk to the sound of his sidekick coming back, but it did little to panic you as your feet leapt up to the roof of the alley building and off into the night, leaving the hero confused in ways you could only answer.

-

⭑ Gang Orca side (Third Person)

Kugo's pulse raced where he stood hand burning with pain, but that being the least of his worries with the rising tent in his pants. "All clear, Sir," his sidekick said out of breath. "Same here, false alarm; head back," Kugo says, thankfully still in the shadows.

"But, Sir, I saw-" "Enough, head back; I'll catch up," Kugo says sternly, making the sidekick frown before walking off, leaving Kugo to his mess.

Unsticking his bloody hands as the night grew cold, lending him loneliness as he walked back to his agency, quickly making it to his office, closing the door, and locking it tight before sitting at his desk. Opening up one of his draws to a first aid kit, carefully wrapping his hand up then cleaning up any blood with a cloth and disinfectant.

Leaning back in his chair, feeling the discomfort in his pants, he led his hand down and palmed his clothed cock that begged to be released. Being such a long time since he's given into himself or been with someone, he gives in, unzipping his pants freeing his throbbing cock to the cold office air.

Gripping it, then leaning his head back to close his eyes, imagining the night over again, your face, how you smirked at him with lips only inches from his. A moan escapes from him, not noticing how his grip tightened thinking of you, a villain, the person he and every hero had been looking for, how you were everything against everything he stood for, and yet you made his mind and body ache.

Picking up his pace, feeling as if he were to cum any moment, all he could imagine was your words how they tamed him to this moment. "How lucky I am," cumming to your words spilling on his hand and stomach, catching his breath slightly shaking from his climax with your words still running through his mind.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is and grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI.

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

[bilightningwhumper]

Midnight Visitor V2

"Belonging to Nightmares" Masterlist

*Beginning is the same as Midnight Visitor V1, changes about a 1/3 of the way in; this one is longer*

December (day#), 1386

Mrow

Minna froze, looking around. She was the only one in her room. So what was-

Mrow!

There it was again. Louder and more insistent. She imitated the sound reflexively, trying to listen for where it came from.

Mrrrooow!

Something was on her balcony, a reflective eye peering at her from the darkness of the bottom window.

Cautiously, she went over and opened the door.

Along with the cold winter air and a flurry of snow, a small black snow-covered cat limped inside. It looked up at her with its one sorrowful brown eye and let out another small mrow. Its other eye had been slashed over, three jagged cuts with blood matting its fur and frozen there. One of its front paws was curled, kept off the ground. Minna couldn’t tell if its leg was broken or not.

Quickly, she shut the door behind it and sat on the ground. The poor thing was frozen. Maybe it would let her hold it?

Without her coaxing, the cat managed to clamber into her lap. It butt its head against her stomach, purring weakly. She took off her suppression cuff, wincing as the chorus of her sisters' voices hit her all at once. Like she'd practiced with Pearl, she sought out Karla. Unsure how to explain the situation, Minna just shared a mental picture of her new furry companion currently attempting to curl up on top of her skirt.

"I'll be right over." Karla's voice echoed in her mind.

Minna sent over a feeling of relief and thanks before putting the cuff back on. While she waited, she offered her hand to the cat.

It responded by nuzzling and licking her fingers before nudging its head into her palm. And it seemed to like it when she scratched behind its ears, leaning heavily into her hand.

When Karla came into her room, Minna was confused to see Kim close behind. She tilted her head in question as they approached.

"I have a feeling I know your friend here." Kim answered softly, crouching down beside her and holding out her own hand to the cat.

Instead of leaning forward like it had been doing with Minna, it only sniffed her hand before meowing at her a few times.

Karla frowned. "She says she didn’t know where else to go. And she's stuck?"

The first part made sense to Minna. A little cat in the middle of the woods, the manor the only warm place for miles. Where else could she go for the winter?

But what did "stuck" mean?

Kim had started tugging at her bangs, making her thinking face. "I can try." she said slowly. "But you'll honestly probably have more luck than me. And just looking at her injuries in this form, I'm going to be limited either way. We'll need Antonia's help. Possibly a serum, depending on if she has serious internal damage."

The cat meowed loudly from Minna's lap. She didn’t think an animal could frown, but this one somehow managed.

"Well," Karla had a weird mix of emotions on her face Minna couldn't tell apart. "She doesn't want the serum." When the cat made a smaller mew, she continued, "But she doesn't mind Antonia. As long as she can stay with Minna."

Without anything other than a nod, Kim left the room. Presumably to get Antonia.

Lost, Minna turned to Karla and made a small questioning noise.

Giving her a small half-smile, Karla said, "I don't entirely know myself, but this one isn’t a normal cat. She's not even a real animal at all. Well, in the traditional sense, not a real animal.

That made even less sense. As far as she could tell, this was a real cat. She had fur and made cat sounds and felt real enough. Maybe she had odd eyes, but didn’t some cats have strange abnormalities like that?

Karla spoke to the cat again. "I can't guarantee much helping you get unstuck, but from what Kim said, it might be our only shot until tomorrow."

If a cat could shrug, this one seemed to. She hopped out of Minna’s lap, graceful even with an injured paw, before sitting on her back legs.

Minna sat as still as possible, watching as both cat and sister closed their eyes.

Nothing really happened at first. She could hear the clock in the living room echo down the hall, twelve tones before everything fell quiet again.

Then the cat... rippled? It was the only word Minna could think of to describe what she was seeing. An odd sort of bubbling or shifting under her skin.

Suddenly, she started growing. Fur began to disappear, paws turning into hands and feet. There were a few moments where it would stop, the process appearing to stall. It seemed painful, as whoever this was kept making small gasps and whimpers.

Finally, a shivering naked Kyrie was in the black cat's place.

Minna immediately caught her friend as she began to sway, wrapping her knit shawl around the both of them as Kim and Antonia walked in.

"Oh good, you got unstuck." Kim sounded unsurprised to see Kyrie instead of the cat.

In Minna's arms, Kyrie only hummed. Her uninjured hand clung to the front of Minna's dress with a death-grip, her breathing labored.

With soft sounds of reassurance, Minna gently pried Kyrie's hand so it was free for Kim’s offered one.

Karla left with a quiet ‘goodnight’ as Kim sat down next to the two huddled women, while Antonia laid out supplies on the floor beside them. Some bandages and cloths, a bowl with some soapy water, various medicines, and-

Sitting up, only to immediately fall back into Minna, Kyrie protested, "No. No serum."

The sixth sister fixed her with a stern glare. "If you have any internal bleeding or similar fatal injuries, Kim isn’t strong enough to fix those right now."

Kim pushed her hair back on her head with a sigh. "What Antonia is so bluntly saying is that we'd rather you not die on us by not having it here just in case." She held out her hand to Kyrie, smiling tiredly. "Let's see what I can do first."

Kyrie took the offered hand with her uninjured one. Her head fell against Minna's shoulder as her whole body shuddered, her eye fluttering shut as Kim used her ability.

Now Minna could see the other side of her friend's face clearly. The cuts had either reopened because of the change or in the warmth. Fresh red with darker brown mixed in had begun to seep out.

"Here."

Minna looked up to Antonia handing her both a sponge and a rag along with the soapy water bowl. Smiling gratefully, she took them carefully over Kyrie and Kim’s linked hands, resting the rag against her leg before putting the sponge in the water.

“Do you mind if I get one of your spare blankets for Kyrie?” Antonia’s voice echoed in her head.

Responding with an image of the winter blankets in the trunk at the end of her bed, Minna turned her attention to Kyrie. She didn’t want to disturb her. She looked so tired. But the cuts looked bad and she wanted to be helpful.

So she nuzzled into Kyrie’s hair, clicking her tongue softly.

Only her uninjured eye opened, the other probably swollen shut. But she seemed to see the wrung, damp sponge Minna held up, nodding as her eye closed again.

As gently as she could manage, Minna started to wash off the blood and grime from her friend’s wounds while Kim and Antonia quietly spoke to each other, inventorying Kyrie’s various injuries. Every time Kyrie let out a whine or wince, Minna would rub her back and kiss the top of her head. At least with the blanket now wrapped around her waist, she’d stopped shivering. Her breathing seemed to have gotten better the longer she held Kim’s hand, but she still leaned on Minna’s shoulder heavily.

Eventually, Kim pulled back, looking about ready to pass out, face drawn but she still managed a smile. “I’ve fixed your ribs, so we won’t need to worry about that. But your wrist is sprained and those cuts there still have be concerned. You might lose that eye if we don’t do anything about it.”

“Stupid bird.” Kyrie muttered, eyes still closed.

Antonia hummed, rocking on her legs. “I can wrap and brace the wrist no problem. Cuts we can clean and bandage. But I can’t fix an eye.”

Chewing on her tongue, Minna knew trying to convince Kyrie to use her father’s serum was a lost cause. She’d always been weirdly stubborn about it. But maybe…

She tapped on the ground. Her sisters turned to look as she traced on the carpet with her finger. C-R-E-

“Right!” Kim got up and ran out of the room.

The door closing behind her got Kyrie to lift her head slightly and open her eyes. Now that the wounds had been thoroughly cleaned, Minna could see the other opening slightly. As Kyrie’s lips parted in question, Kim was already back, the jar of their test ample in her hand.

Minna helped Kyrie to sit up, careful not to accidentally bump the arm that Antonia was currently binding.

As Kim sat back down, opening the small jar, she said, “We’ve been working on alternatives to the serum. But seeing as ourselves and our sisters have been our only test subjects, I don’t know how well this will work.”

When Kyrie looked up at Minna, she responded by gently bumping their noses together, trying to smile reassuringly. Worry gnawed at her while Kyrie hesitated, but when she said a quiet “okay,” Minna’s whole body relaxed.

“Now do you want me to apply it or Minna?”

Minna flushed as Kyrie snuggled closer to her. Suddenly she was very aware that the only things covering her friend were the blanket and shawl. And she had her arm around Kyrie’s bare waistline. In front of her sisters.

Kim gave her a knowing smile with a twinkle in her eye as Kyrie let out a soft “Minna can do it.” before her eyes slipped shut again.

Trying to keep herself from shaking, Minna took the jar with her still clammy hand she’d been holding the sponge with. She set it on her lap before dipping her fingertips into the cream. It was cool to the touch and she only took a little bit to apply on Kyrie’s cuts. Without meaning to, she held her breath as the experimental mixture made contact with the wound.

Kyrie made no sound, but her eyebrows did furrow slightly as Minna applied it to the smallest of the three gashes.

Together, the three sisters watched as the cream dissolved, the skin slowly knitting itself back together, It didn’t heal completely, but it did become the beginnings of a scar. All three let out a sigh of relief. That was the result they expected of a gash that deep.

Antonia finished binding Kyrie’s wrist before she grabbed Kim’s arm. “We’ll leave you two alone.” she said, dragging the other sister out of the room.

“Don’t forget it works on bruises, too.” Kim said before the door fully closed behind them.

And then they were alone. Unchaperoned. For the second time in over a year.

Kyrie shifted, breaking Minna out of her stiffened posture.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked, voice thick. “You weren’t supposed to find out like this. I wanted to tell you, but I just…” Tears rolled down her uninjured cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Kissing her temple softly, Minna just pulled her closer. She kept using the cream, not just on the gashes but on the other smaller injuries she could see on Kyrie’s face and neck.

It did quick work. The deeper cuts across her face and eye turned into soft pink scars like the first and other the minor cuts and bruises disappeared after a few minutes.

Throughout it all, Kyrie still said nothing, though she did relax more as time passed, her eyes falling closed.

When Minna finished, Kyrie pulled back, the shawl falling away.

“I can finish the rest.” she mumbled, not meeting Minna’s eyes as she played with her fingers in her lap.

“No.”

Minna’s sudden outburst startled them both. But she made sure to smile, holding out her hand to Kyrie again.

“You, you don’t hate me?” Kyrie asked, halting and wide-eyed.

Confused, Minna tilted her head, brows furrowed. Why would she hate her? How could she ever hate her? Because she could turn into a cat? But that couldn’t be-

Achoo

Kyrie sneezed and a pair of cat ears popped up in her hair. The blanket where it was wrapped behind her started twitching, as if a tail was suddenly underneath.

Adorable.

The ears flattened as Kyrie hunched in on herself. “It’s hard to control,” she muttered. “Let me, um- Minna, what-”

Without thinking, Minna reached over and tentatively started scratching behind one of those new ears. It made Kyrie perk up a bit, her face flushing slightly as she smiled a little. But she hadn’t asked. She probably should have asked first. Still, Kyrie didn’t stop her, instead leaning into Minna’s hand, so…

A sound started. A weird, rumbling, moaning sound.

Minna stopped, looking around.

The sound stopped too.

“No…” Kyrie whined, pouting up at Minna. “Why’d you stop?”

Giggling, Minna pulled her close again, wrapping them both in the blanket before resuming her scratching behind those ears. This time when the rumble came back, she could feel it coming from Kyrie against her chest. She was purring.

But… as the blanket was shifted, she could see… a lot. She’d noticed them before. It was why she’d hurried to cover Kyrie before her sisters could see. But now they were alone. So she moved it down, not missing how her friend tensed slightly in her arms.

Bruises. So many bruises. All of them in various stages of healing. Many circled around her waist and ribs, down her body to where they probably ended where Minna’s had. Back before… Gods…

She burst into tears. This was her fault. If the king had gotten a child from her years ago, he probably wouldn’t have bothered with Kyrie or… If only she hadn’t been so selfish…

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Minna sniffled, pushing away her tears angrily with her palms. Kyrie was the one hurt, not her. This wasn’t about her right now.

But she couldn’t talk, just gently ran her fingers against the bruising on her friend’s stomach.

Grimacing, Kyrie let out a small sigh. “Yeah… I…” She shook her head, looking up at Minna again. “I can’t talk about it yet. Can we… can we just take a bath? I feel gross and it’s probably better if I’m clean before we use the cream, ointment, stuff, right? And then, hmm...”

As Kyrie let out a big yawn, Minna kissed her forehead again before getting up and offering her hands to her friend.

She could do that. She could help.

Hope you liked it! No taglist so far, so let me know if you want to be on one for this!

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[linwritesskz]

Sleepy mornings - a hyunlix fanfic

1.7k words, pure fluff, hyunlix as parents.

for kixee <3

It was early in the morning, the sun was only just rising up and illuminating the room through the small gap in the curtains that had been moved by the cat that was snoozing on the bed together with the two people laying in the bed. Everyone was sleeping peacefully, not a sound was heard through the house, besides the small snores one of the men was letting out. 

Until a loud scream was heard throughout the house and the baby alarm that was placed on the bedside table woke the two men sleeping. The black haired one, who was lying closest to the alarm, rolled over, grabbed it, and threw it at his partner. Felix uttered a low ouch as the alarm hit him in the head, swore under his breath at Hyunjin, and rolled over to glare at his husband for that. Although the glare was half-hearted, because Felix just couldn’t stay mad at Hyunjin for a long time, and especially not when he was barely awake and had the most adorable bed hair. 

“It's your turn to go see what is wrong, baby,” Hyunjin said with a tired groan, rolling over and burying his head into the pillow again, trying to fall asleep again, not wanting to get out of bed yet. Felix groaned and rolled over to sit up on the edge of the bed. He stretched, rubbed his eyes to try and wake himself up more, and get ready to go into the room to see what was up with their little girl. 

As he stood up and walked over to the closet to find a shirt and some sweats to wear, their cat looked up at him with huge expecting eyes. It jumped off the bed, walked over to the door, and looked back at Felix. Felix stood up and walked over to the door and the cat, who was now sitting by the door. 

“No, sweetheart, it isn’t time for food yet,” Felix said as he leaned down to scratch the cat behind its ears. He stood up again and pushed the door open. The cat let out an unsatisfied meow and glared at Felix. Then it walked back to the bed, jumped up on it, laid down in the spot that Felix had vacated just a moment ago, and fell back asleep. Felix smiled and let out a little laugh at the cat's antics as he looked at the domestic scene of his husband and their cat snoozing in the bed together. He stood there for a moment and just stared, until another loud cry pulled him out of his thoughts and he remembered why he had gotten out of bed. He turned around, pushed the door fully open, and walked out of it. and slowly pushed it partly closed again, so the noises wouldn’t disturb the sleeping man in the bedroom. 

He walked with hurried steps out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the nursery, where he could hear their little girl fussing around and crying her little lungs out. Felix got to the door, pushed it open, and looked into the dark room, where their daughter was lying in her crib, crying loudly and reaching out for something or someone. Felix rushed over to the crib, leaned down, picked the little girl up, and got her situated in his arms.

“There, there, little one, daddy is here to take care of you and scare the bad things away,” Felix said in a calm voice as he rocked her up and down in his arms, trying desperately to get her to relax and stop crying. He lifted her up and sniffed at her diaper and realised that it was probably because of her dirty diaper, that she was fussing so much. 

He sighed, walked over to the changing table, where he laid her down and started to change her diaper. He silently hoped that it would help and she could calm down, so that he possibly could get some more sleep with his husband. He finished and took her up again in his arms. Her cries had calmed down to a low hiccuping and it seemed like she was slowly settling down again. Felix sighed in relief and slowly laid her down in her crib again, but the minute he let go of her, she looked up at him for a second with her big eyes and he watched as she scrunched up her face and immediately started crying again. He sighed deeply.

“Oh little one, do you need to come with daddy and lay in daddy and papa’s bed for a bit?” Felix sighed as he took her up again in his arms. He bounced her up and down for a little while in hopes that it would calm her down enough that he wouldn’t have to take her to their room, but it didn’t seem to help in any way. He sighed, walked over to the door, and walked slowly down the hallway with her to the master bedroom. He pushed the door open again and walked into the room. He stood there for a moment in the door opening and looked at the bed, as his husband turned over and looked back at the door. 

While Felix had been in the nursery, Hyunjin had slowly been waking up again. He had rolled over and tried to cuddle the cat as he missed his husband beside him, and had glanced over at the door hoping Felix would come back to bed. He was slowly getting worried as well, the longer Felix was gone and hoped that there wasn’t anything seriously wrong with their daughter. He rolled back over and picked up his phone to see what the time was. 5:30am the clock read and Hyunjin laid down again with a sigh, closed his eyes and hoped that sleep could pull him down again.

As he was laying there, he heard the quiet footsteps of his husband returning to their bedroom. He looked up the minute Felix walked into the room with their daughter, then just stared at his husband and daughter standing there. He could see how tired Felix looked, but he couldn’t help how the scene of his husband standing there with their daughter made him feel so full and happy. 

Hyunjin couldn’t really believe that this was actually his life now, that he was living in this house with the love of his life and that they had a little daughter together. He couldn’t believe that they were in the process of trying to adopt a little boy as well, as both he and Felix wanted more kids. Hyunjin couldn’t have imagined that this was how his life would turn out, when he met Felix all those years ago at JYP as trainees and then later as members of Stray Kids. And now they were here, being married for close to 5 years. 

Hyunjin always viewed himself as the luckiest person on earth, that Felix was so patient and waited for Hyunjin to be ready to accept his feelings for the other man, while they were still bandmates. Even now as Stray Kids were currently on hiatus, as they were waiting for their beloved maknae to be done with his military service, Hyunjin felt even more blessed, that this was really his life. But he also knew that he had to treasure these moments a lot, because once Jeongin was back from military service, the band would pick up again as Chan, Changbin and Han had been working non stop on new songs, especially after Han had returned from his turn in the military, for their long anticipated comeback and return of Jeongin. Hyunjin knew that especially Chan was looking forward to that as he was deeply missing the younger boy and was planning to confess his feelings for him. Hyunjin really hoped that it would go well for Jeongin and Chan as well and that they would also get their happy ending, just like Hyunjin had gotten with Felix.  

Hyunjin sat up and just looked over at Felix with a soft smile and just couldn’t help himself.

“I love you so much,” he said in the softest voice and just looked at Felix with a soft look on his face and a small smile slowly adorning his face. Felix flushed and looked around, holding their daughter closer to him.

“What is up with you? Not that I mind, but that just seemed out of the blue,” Felix said as he looked at his husband from the end of the bed, bouncing their daughter up and down as she calmed down.

“I just wanted to tell you, can’t I tell my husband that I love him and his efforts as he takes care of our daughter?” Hyunjin asked with a smile. He leaned his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands, turned his head slightly, and looked straight at Felix.

“Well, yes, of course, you can, but I’m just doing the bare minimum here and I look like absolute shit,” Felix said with a small scoff. He looked down at their daughter with a small frown and then back over at Hyunjin. He flushed as he caught his husband’s eyes that were so full of love for the both of them.

“Well, anyway, now that you are awake and kinda up, do you maybe wanna go get something to eat and feed this little gremlin?” Felix asked, tilting his head and pouting a little at Hyunjin. Hyunjin smiled and let out a little aw at the cute antics that his husband was pulling at him. He slowly pulled himself out of the bed, walked over to Felix and their daughter, and pulled them both into a big hug. He pressed a kiss against the top of Felix's head. Felix tilted his head up at that and smiled at Hyunjin with a small flush to his cheeks as Hyunjin leaned down again and pressed a soft kiss against his husband’s lips. 

“Should we go down to the kitchen and get the day started then?” Hyunjin asked as he pulled away and looked down at their daughter. He gave her a kiss on top of her head as well and then looked over at Felix with a small smile. 

Felix smiled back at him. Then he turned around and started to walk towards the kitchen as Hyunjin stayed in their bedroom and looked for some more clothes to wear. Then he hurried out of the door to join the love of his life and their daughter for another day in this life, which Hyunjin was still convinced is a dream.

[lanaxoxoxoxoxox]

Heyyy! I was just scrolling through tumblr at 3am as we all do and found you matching people with mcyts based on the askers descriptions and this feels super awkward but I’m also too delulu for my own good :))))

Do I'm short. Like real short. 5ft 2 short. I'm extroverted, not as in skydiving extroverted, as in I really like people :D

I've got really long dark blonde hair and lots of beauty marks all over me. l've got hazel eyes, and l'm in that annoying in between where I'm not skinny but l'm not chubby either.

1 love music, like REALLY LOVE music. Like I will not be caught dead without headphones. I love picking artists I hear about and listening to every single song of theirs for a week just to learn new music.

I play ukulele and want to learn to play guitar, and l'm really good at drawing and most things creative <3

anyway, thank you for reading this if you had the patience :)

hii!! very excited to answer this ask teehee

match ups #4

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i would match you with wilbur!

i say this everytime, but truly its perfect and obviously true

short duo + tall duo literally runs the world of duos

will would grab stuff from heights you cant reach or sum

also hear me out....black cat + golden retriever duo!!!

i feel like you're the golden retriever (based off your ask description) and will's the black cat of the duo

idk it just makes sense in my brain for me !!

also you and wilbur thrive off eachothers extrovertness (is that even a word??)

constantly blabbing and talking out of nowhere /pos

i also feel like since you guys are extroverts you just communicate with eachother so well

which keeps your relationship S T R O NG (as it should be !!)

wilbur loves your hair and beauty marks (your entire appearance obviously, but your hair and beauty marks especially

loves playing and tangling with your hair

will constantly ask to brush and braid it before you guys go to sleep

he'll also trace over your beauty marks

he just thinks its so cute

talks to you about those past life beauty marks theories that he sees on tiktok with you all the time

you guys also share a love of music!!

you follow will on tour often as a "groupie" as he jokes about it

you'll be sitting on the side of the stage singing along and will looks over at you and just wants to take a picture

sometimes he'll even call you on stage in between songs and kisses you

CROWD GOES BANANAS AT THAT

crowd at the gigs will also chant our your name for you to come out like its a dang encore

"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" the crowd chanting, blasting everyones ears.

Wilbur smiled and looked over to the side of the stage where y/n was sitting. "Y/n, darling, will you come on stage please?"

The crowd roars in response as you walk out

lovejoy will constantly joke that they love you more than the actual members

wilbur will also find new music for you two to listen to together!!

you guys also making playlists together for eachother as little dates while listening to music and snacking

wilbur loves how you play uke, as thats how he started out making music!!

he'll also try teaching you guitar lessons whenever you want them

he'll also peek over your shoulder when you're drawing and compliment you on it even if you've drawn literally nothing

"Nice drawing, darling." Wilbur said, leaning his head on my shoulder.

I stared at him in confusion. "Will, I haven't even started..."

"And?"

"You idiot."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

hope u enjoyed!!

requests are finally back open!! i've managed it a bit more :D

please support me by liking, replying, reblogging, following my blog, or sending in a ask/request!!

love you xoxoxo